The Importance of American Fireworks
by Ashfire-Darkstorm
Summary: Canada has always been forgotten. It's usually not so much a problem as it is annoying, but then his nation is launched into civil war and only one person remembers enough to care... and that begins a chain reaction. One-shot, maybe a series of one-shots. T for blood.
1. Unnoticeable

Matthew Williams had never felt loved.

He was the country nobody noticed, the soul nobody knew; he was the brother who was constantly forgotten and the ineffectual ghost. Every day he dealt with those assigned identities and suffered from them. He was not a brave nation on the outside, but deep in his heart he wished to be so- if only for the attention.

His own boss didn't know him. His best friend constantly mistook him for his southern brother. His dearest companion couldn't even remember his name.

How could Canada be so consistently overlooked?

It was that way and it was painful (Maple if it wasn't), but even throughout his years of loneliness, he managed to hold himself together. The reclusive boy raised by England and France became an undeniably shy man, but everyone who knew there were two American brothers knew both could only truly thrive on attention. No wonder, then, that the one who was never noticed suffered.

But maple syrup, if he wasn't Matthew Williams, he wouldn't be able to deal with it. It was hard, and it was depressing, but he always managed to power through... well, at least until his economy took a downturn.

It was sudden, violent- Canada went in days from a perfectly healthy man-nation to a ragged lump on the floor, hacking and coughing. He could hardly stand at times. After the strikes and anarchists reared their ugly heads, he was covered in scratches and nasty bruises in addition to the foul illness he'd contracted. He would try to pull himself off of the floor of his bedroom and collapse in a heap of pain. Kuma-whatsit(he could never remember the polar bear's name, and it made him feel like dirt to admit it) brought him food and even helped him eat, but food alone could not sustain an entire nation.

And in spite of his need, all his wishes and prayers and falling stars, nobody but that silly polar bear ever came to help.

When the world meeting finally began to approach, America at least took some notice that his brother wasn't responding to his e-mails. With no government transport available for the Canadian- his boss could never see him, didn't believe in him- the brothers had taken to travelling together to the world meeting, and the only things America never forgot concerning his brother were their travel arrangements.

So America paid a house call to his dear brother for the first time in many long years and found him lying on the ground, his clothes stiff with his own dried blood, his body surrounded by dirty food dishes and crumbs and a white polar bear whose fur was turning yellow from lack of baths.

After the general freak-out over his sibling's deteriorating health, America (The hero, Canada supposed Alfred probably thought himself for 'rescuing' him) rushed his dear brother to a hospital. The nation recovered to some extent: just enough that Alfred convinced him to attend the meeting, promised it'd be worth his while, and bought him a nice, bright red wheelchair for the event.

So America took his brother to the meeting in London, and promptly forgot about him.

* * *

Gilbert Beilschmidt was having a surprisingly awesome day when he first noticed the nation everyone seemed to forget.

For the first time in years, his dear brother Ludwig had taken him along to the World Conference. Every time one occurred, he begged to go, to participate, to relive his awesomely glorious days as a nation; almost every time Germany turned away, reminding him that the Conference was for those who still numbered among the countries. And, as much as Gilbert hoped and begged and pleaded to the stars, they both knew no amount of wishes and no expression of awesomeness could ever return Prussia to his former glory.

It was only after promising to do chores without any manner of bribery for a whole week and swearing he would completely avoid the dummkopf for two entire days that West relented, and even then he suspected that was largely due to his younger brother's boss(who had always been slightly partial to the elder of the two).

So he went to the meeting, and he sat, and he argued with the other nations about anything he could think of- although particularly with a certain red-haired Scotsman about the various qualities of alcoholic beverages(and how beer was the awesomest, as opposed to whatever Allistor had back home). Then South Korea jumped in, and before he could blink they had half of the conference attendees yelling at each other about who had better pubs and bars and how high-quality their booze was compared to everyone else's.

To put it frankly, Gilbert was rather proud. To create chaos like that... well, it took effort, man. It took awesomeness. Even at a world meeting where nothing would ever go as planned despite their best efforts, it was difficult. He'd even got West involved. How awesome was that?

After arguing his points on German beer for several minutes, he managed to back out of the massive group he had helped create and take stock of those who had wisely (and un-awesomely) chosen to stay out of it. He saw Liechtenstein, Switzerland(who clearly wanted to participate as well but was being held back by his 'little sister'), Japan, and a couple of the smaller nations like Seychelles(although Sealand had managed to get his underaged self right into the thick of it, arguing on the side of French wine just to annoy England). He scanned the room and saw nobody else he really knew.

Wait...

There, on the other side of the room, was somebody he almost not quite recognized. Prussia had no idea how he'd missed the guy before (that red hoodie with the maple leaf was blatantly obvious), but his immediate thought was_ Is that... America?_

He glanced back at the warring group of alcoholics in confusion and saw the man known as Alfred F. Jones right in the middle of the argument. _If it's not him, then who...?_

He turned back to the other man, furrowing his brow. The America-lookalike occupied a wheelchair and had an exhausted, weary air about him. Prussia supposed it could have been some mortal citizen who'd accidentally wandered into the meeting(sadly, that happened far more often than one would think), but the man didn't look confused or disgruntled or terrified at all- no need to sick France on him yet, even if he was human.

Prussia almost went over to talk to the mysterious crippled nation(Who could possibly or even likely be a normal human), but then West pulled him back into the mass of fighting people to argue on the ethnicity of Germany's multiple and prosperous breweries, and he saw no more of the boy that day.

* * *

The next time he saw the nation was when he and Germany took a small vacation to America. After the totally not-awesome hamburger-loving New Worlder gave them an official national tour out of courtesy for their visit, the brothers stopped in an amusement park for their last few days in the country. Prussia had to admit, this particular American kind of fun was fun even when it was childish- and he'd gotten a few nice pictures of Germany screaming his head off on the one rollercoaster he had been able to persuade the stiff-necked nation to go on. Oddly enough, it was actually just after the rollercoaster- while he was waiting for his younger brother to stop washing his hands (Honestly. He knew Germany was throwing up, the people in the bathroom knew Germany was throwing up, and, thanks to the magic of texting, half of the other nations would know he was throwing up within the next five minutes. Lying wasn't gonna help anything; West should have just told the truth.) on a bench by an awesome log ride- that he saw the guy.

Gilbert had been fiddling with their all-week passes(Courtesy of the slightly more awesome than normal America), looking gleefully at the awesome rides and wondering how much beer it would take to get Germany drunk enough to get on them all, when he heard a voice. It was soft and quiet and oddly sad, and Prussia felt like he should know it even though he was positive he'd never heard it before.

"One day I'll confront them about this. One day!"

"Who are you?" This second voice was high-pitched, squeaky, and somewhat inconsiderate.

The man's voice sighed. "I'm Canada."

"Feed me. I'm hungry."

"I didn't bring enough money for food. America promised he'd pay for us if we went."

Prussia turned around, and saw a man clutching a polar bear walking away from him, his shoulders stiff in a telltale sign of stress. He didn't recognize the dude from the back so much (completely un-awesome on his part, because he was sure he knew him), but he was fairly sure it had to be the guy from the meeting- Canada, he guessed? Maybe the human really was a nation. But if he was, then what the heck was he doing in America of all places? Deep inside his awesome mind, he figured they had to be either siblings or- even awesomer- clones. Did America have clones? Maybe it was a state?

When Germany got out of the bathroom, Prussia asked him about it.

"Vhat? Canada?" The blonde-haired man seemed a little confused (And also a little green, but Prussia was too focused on the question at hand to tease him about it). "No, that is America's brother to the north, not a state. Vhere have you even heard of him? I have only seen him a few times, myself."

"He vas at the Conference." Prussia said.

Ludwig shook his head. "Nein, I didn't notice him."

"He vas sitting right across from the awesome me. Didn't you see him? He vas vearing a bright red hoodie and holding a polar bear. That's hard to miss, West. This just proves I am more awesome than you are."

"Seriously? Nein, I vould have noticed him if he vas there. It's not possible."

Prussia frowned, wondering why his own brother hadn't noticed the injured nation that went by the name of Canada. That was totally and completely un-awesome.

He decided to lecture his brother later, feeling he had more important things to get done- awesomer things.

So... This Canada guy was America's brother, huh?

* * *

The third time Prussia saw Canada was late one afternoon, about a month after their American vacation. He was at his own awesome house, and Germany was out getting the wurst for dinner (Wurst for once, and not pasta! He was awesomely pleased). Gilbird was clicking through the channels on the TV, and Gilbert himself was so un-awesomely bored that he resorted to sitting in Germany's favorite chair upside down so all the blood rushed to his head for entertainment. Truly desperate measures, but he was too awesome to have nothing to do.

Germany had been gone for about ten minutes when he heard the doorbell ring- once, twice. He groaned and got up, awesomely prepared to yell at the tenacious guest for disturbing his pointless and somewhat not-awesome entertainment- and before dinner, too? How dare the intruder! If he had Switzerland's gun obsession, the un-awesome invader would have been dead already.

Prussia marched awesomely to the door and flung it open. "How dare you intrude on my awesomeness!" He yelled.

A (sadly) familiar face squeaked and cowered. Italy, the pasta-loving coward, undoubtedly come to visit Ludwig like he had been almost every day for the past fifty years or so. (Secretly, Prussia was wondering when they'd finally admit their love and get together- not that he ever said that out loud. It was so obvious sometimes it hurt to see them so clueless- their half-glances, all the pasta West made him eat, the badly-hidden blushes... His brother was so not awesome at recognizing romance.)

Gilbert took another breath to yell, but then he noticed who was behind the first invader.

His first glance took in the boy as America, but then with a start he realized it was actually Canada. He didn't know how, exactly, he knew; the only big difference was the northern nation's lack of a cowlick. Maybe it was the way he held himself, or his eyes- which, Prussia realized, while close to blue, were actually a pale shade of violet. Prussia shut his mouth and sighed- West would kill him if he was rude to Feliciano, and for some reason he didn't really understand he didn't actually want to insult the interesting nation standing nearby. "Vhat do you vant, Italy?" He asked rather flatly. His voice was still undeniably awesome.

"What? Ohhh~" The pasta-freak stood up straight again. "I didn't think it was you, Prussia! I thought it was some scary monster or something~"

"I asked, vhat do you vant?" Prussia leaned forward with a threatening smirk (he purposely made his lip twitch so he looked like he was about to explode), and the smaller nation flinched again.

"I was just going to introduce my new friend to Germany! Veee~"

Prussia glanced back up at Canada, who seemed a little surprised, and then back down at Italy. "Ludwig is out getting dinner." He leaned back. "Kesesese..." The two nations flinched once more at his awesome laugh, but by now Italy was used to it and he guessed Canada was tolerant to stuff like that, too- for old Fritz's sake, the guy's brother was America. That was totally not awesome. He felt a moral backlash at the sight of the latter cowering, but moral backlashes were to be dealt with away from house guests (Or so old Fritz had said, and the old man was never wrong).

"Oh~ Well, can we come in and wait on him?" Italy grinned up at the albino man, who sighed.

"Fine." He said awesomely, and just as awesomely held the door open for them to enter. Once again, Canada seemed surprised when Prussia beckoned him in.

I feel like a creeper right now. Prussia thought to himself as his brother's best friend began leading the quiet America-lookalike around the house. With nothing better to do, he felt obligated to follow; sitting upside down in chairs could only be awesome for so long, of course, and that time had passed when something more awesome started happening. Why touring his own house was so awesome, he had no idea.

From the back, Gilbert could see nothing unusual about Italy's new friend. But when he told the pair about a specific room or item and they turned to watch him, he began to realize that Canada's face was still tired and gaunt. There was a scar all along his forehead and a second on one of his cheeks. His hair was ruffled and messy but at the same time limp, as though he hadn't showered or brushed it for a while. Even worse, when the Canadian walked, he also sagged, like he hardly had the energy to keep upright.

Prussia felt a little sorry for his fellow nation, reminded of a time when his awesome self had acted as such. Back when his awesome nation had faded away. Back when he'd almost died.

He did not want to go through anything like that again, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he hoped nobody else would have to, either.

Well, maybe Austria, but whatever. That un-awesome piano freak deserved whatever he got, but the awesome Prussia would never let something like that happen to sein kleiner Bruder or any of the nations he considered friends.

And, as he watched Canada and Italy talking about one of the tapestries on the wall, he realized he didn't want to let the New Worlder go down without a fight, either.

By the time Germany returned with the wurst, their tour was complete and the trio was relaxing in the living room. Ludwig didn't seem too entirely surprised by Italy's presence and hardly acknowledged their second guest at all (Which was odd, because Germany was usually fairly welcoming to guests so long as they obeyed house rules).

Judging by Canada's almost neutral reaction to the unfair treatment, Prussia guessed the guy got ignored a lot more than he let on.

Still, when nobody bothered to pass their fellow nation a plate at dinner, Gilbert wondered exactly how far this ignore-a-Canadian game went with the others. It was totally not awesome to ignore a guest like that.

Prussia glared at Germany and Italy and passed his own plate to Canada. He got up to get his own.

Germany blinked. "Vhat?"

"You forgot to give Canada a plate, so like the completely and utterly awesome person I am I gave him mine." Prussia said.

"Vhat? There is no Canada here." Ludwig looked around the table and his eyes hit the shy nation dead on.

As Prussia watched in mounting anger, West's eyes passed completely over the quiet man instead of apologizing like a proper host.

"Ja, there is! Italy brought him, remember?" Prussia protested.

"Whaaaat?" Italy looked inexplicably confused. "B-but I didn't bring anyone! But wait, yes I did... No I didn't..." The curly-haired nation's brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could come up with a solid answer he caught sight of what Ludwig had just set down on the table: a heaping bowl of...

"Pastaaaa~" Italy exclaimed happily, soon becoming lost in the world of food once more.

Prussia was confused(And not about why his brother had made both pasta and wurst for dinner instead of just the latter like originally planned; it was obvious that, at least, was due to his 'secret' crush on one Feliciano Vargas) and, quite frankly, rather angry. "Vhat?! Vhy do you not remember him?! You called him your friend just an hour ago!"

"Uhm, Prussia..." Canada began quietly, but by the time he spoke Prussia was neck-deep in a rant about friendships and Canadians, and judging by how both Italy and Germany were cowering it was probably very fierce on the receiving end.

"It is not awesome to forget your friends! You should be ashamed for being so against the rule of awesome! I should just leave your heads outside on spikes for this!"

"Prussia..." Canada repeated. He swallowed and raised his voice in an attempt to get the ex-nation to listen. "Prussia. Prussia!"

The last one came out far louder than he'd intended it to, and even though his voice was still a little whispery all three of the offending nations took notice. Prussia, still furious with his younger brother and the Italian, rounded on Canada with a glare that lessened only slightly when he saw who had spoken. Germany cast the quiet nation a fast, somewhat surprised glance, but quickly returned to his wurst. Italy beamed and waved hello before digging into his pasta.

"It's okay, Prussia." Canada's voice had returned to its normal volume, and Prussia had to lean in a little bit to hear him properly. "Everybody ignores me. I'm used to it." He took a lonely bite of wurst and kept his eyes focused on the (immaculately clean) tablecloth.

"Vell, that's not awesome at all." Prussia snorted.

They spent most of the rest of dinner sitting in companionable silence.

Germany, personally, was wondering who the strange guest was and what the heck he'd done with Prussia. He would have mentioned it, but Italy dragged him into a conversation about the Roman Empire ('Grandpa Rome') and he found himself too deep into the subject to worry about how his brother wasn't interrupting with obnoxious comments like usual.

* * *

The next time Prussia saw Canada was, once again, a momentary thing.

He'd been caught by Hungary trying to sneak up on Austria, and was being dragged by the violent girl into the very house he'd been trying to infiltrate moments before. She had an iron grip on his arm, and her other hand brandished her signature frying pan threateningly. He already had an oversized lump on his head from earlier, and, bearing no desire to be un-awesomely conked on the head again, he was going along fairly willingly with only the occasional rude comment and mutter.

He was being dragged through a hallway when he caught a glimpse through an open door and saw America.

Standing next to him was a familiar face, a man holding a miniature polar bear. This second man turned towards him, and he caught a glimpse of violet eyes before Hungary dragged him past the room and onwards to Austria's office.

"Why are you slowing down?" Prussia felt the frying pan connect with his head once again, and he quickly picked up the pace, leaving the lonely nation far behind.

* * *

After that particular incident, Prussia didn't see Canada again for most of the remainder of the year. Life went on as awesomely as possible, Germany went on being as much of a neat freak as usual, and overall Gilbert deemed the year was, to put it frankly, utterly awesome.

Christmastime was approaching, and America once more 'invited' all of the nations to a massive party. While Prussia knew Ludwig would have preferred to stay home for the holiday, neither of them particularly wanted an all-out war with Alfred for no good reason. So off to the New World they went, hoping they could leave soon enough to celebrate their own substantially more awesome Christmas at home without looking dangerously ungrateful.

When they entered the world conference room, it was already packed with nations. Prussia, being, of course, the most awesome person in the room, immediately mixed with the previous arrivals and was soon laughing gutturally with Scotland, France, and Spain. Germany wandered off to find Italy like he'd promised earlier in the year (although Italy did end up finding Ludwig first, Prussia was told later, and Spain lost a lot of money in a bet with Romano as to who would find who).

He spent the first hour or so talking with the three awesome people he considered his friends. After all, if he had to stay for the party, he might as well enjoy himself, and of all the other nations these few were the ones he'd chosen to associate himself with. Well, them, and Austria, and Hungary, and Germany.

And Canada.

Some of Prussia's awesome humor left him as he remembered America's sibling and realized he hadn't seen the guy yet. Surely the nation was attending? Alfred had even invited Sealand, of all people; could he really forget his own brother so easily?

Well, that un-awesome thought sure put off his holiday mood.

Scotland (who, despite his rough-and-tumble personality and horrible smoking habits, was actually fairly adept at sensing the mood) was the first to notice Prussia's lack of mirth. England's eldest brother clapped an arm around the shorter man's shoulders and offered him a cheesy grin, "Hey, why the long face? Don't put a damper on th' party. Nobody likes a joykill."

Prussia mustered up a smirk as Spain and France looked over. He downed the last of his beer in a single gulp and proceeded to wave the glass around. "The awesome me must excuse myself to get more awesome beer. Stay awesome, guys!" He laughed, and the others laughed with him, and then he vanished into the crowd.

C'mon, c'mon... Where would a shy Canadian be hiding in the midst of this massive party?

Prussia wasn't sure why, exactly, he wanted to talk to Canada. The nation was nothing like his other friends, always quiet and respectful as opposed to the outgoing and often un-awesomely annoying qualities of France, Spain, and Scotland- and while the idiot factor in the trio may have been off the charts, Prussia knew what he liked in a friend, and Canada had none of it.

He cursed himself for his un-awesome confusion and decided it would be best just to head for the beer like he'd said he would. But as he began to walk towards the long refreshment-bearing table, he saw America out of the corner of his eye, surrounded by the former Allies (minus Russia, who hadn't been invited due to an incident involving their host and a metal pipe a few months prior to the current occasion).

Prussia cast a longing glance at the amber liquid that was made of awesome and sighed. He needed to know where Canada was, and Alfred was the only one who could tell him.

The former Allies quieted as he swaggered up and shot a glare at America. "Hey, listen, you loser. I vant to know vhere your brother is." He leaned forward threateningly, inwardly wondering exactly how much alcohol he must've had if he was stupid enough to threaten a world power, and locked his red eyes with the somewhat flustered country's blue ones.

"...Wait, what?" America blinked once, twice, and looked at him in confusion. "Y'mean Canada?"

Gilbert sourly wondered how much alcohol the hamburger-loving un-awesome freak had had. Far more than him, it seemed; the guy was barely standing upright. "No, Nova Scotia. Of course I'm talking about Canada, idiot! Vhere is he?"

America blinked a few more times, his eyes rather unfocused. "Matthew... He's... In the room... Over by the-" The country wobbled and began to collapse in a drunken haze.

Pale arms caught Alfred F. Jones, pulling him back up and slapping him awake. Prussia turned and realized, with a mixed sense of shock and relief, that the very nation he had come seeking was holding the drunken man upright.

The other nations, England in particular, jumped at the sudden and inexplicable appearance of Matthew. Canada promptly passed his brother off to China with a mumbled 'sorry' and sunk back into the crowd.

But, dang it, if Prussia was any one thing he was persistent.

And awesome, of course, but that was a given.

Gilbert immediately dashed off in pursuit of the nation, almost bowling over Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia (Who were trying to escape Belarus, who had promised her brother she'd watch them for whatever reason), but Matthew was following was far more nimble than he'd expected- and, despite the bright red hoodie, surprisingly good at blending into crowds. Before he'd crossed a quarter of the room, Canada had vanished once more.

Gilbert came to a stop, feeling lost even though he knew his way around the conference hall as well as anyone did- for old Fritz's sake, the thing was just an open area! He still hadn't figured out how Italy had gotten lost in the room five times before, once for several days.

Prussia groaned, rubbing his forehead, and decided to take a walk.

Man, he was out of it today.

Desperate for some quiet time(Perhaps the first or second occasion in his entire awesome life he felt like there was too much talking to think; he was usually the cause of all that white noise), Prussia slunk out of the room and into the long, twisting hallways beyond. Unlike the conference hall, these were easy to get lost in, with hundreds of identical doorways and few distinguishing features. Italy had once gotten lost in these for a few months; it had sent West into a frenzy, yet more evidence that his little brother cared more than he'd admit.

It was, Gilbert decided, a perfectly awesome place to think.

Over the next hour, he did his best to get completely lost. It wasn't very hard, but wherever he went, he could always hear the sounds of the Christmas party- raised voices, thuds, and after a certain point explosively loud music. Typical American celebration.

Prussia finally stopped walking, somewhere in the basement of the building judging by how the endless sound seemed to be coming from above. Funny, he'd always thought the conference room was soundproofed; maybe the door was open or something?

Prussia thought about his fellow nations for a moment and shook his head. No, they couldn't be that loud... could they? It was soundproofed.

He sighed, feeling somewhat less awesome than normal, and leaned awesomely against the wall. Nothing for it, he supposed. This would just end up being the worst Christmas ever... except for one, but that didn't count. That couldn't be called a Christmas.

"Hey, Prussia..."

Gilbert jumped at the quiet voice and turned around to face the intruder. "Canada? But how did you...?"

"I just turned the corner and I saw you." Matthew replied. "A-are you okay...?"

Prussia hid a frown beneath one of his signature smirks. "Of course I'm okay! I'm Prussia." He turned away and cast his fellow nation a sidelong glance. "Quite frankly, if I vere you, I'd be more vorried about myself."

"Me..?" Canada looked concerned, but the expression quickly turned to distraught when he realized what Prussia was saying. "Oh, can you still tell?"

"Dude, there are scratches and scars all over your face. Only a blind frog vouldn't be able to tell. Also, you are unusually skinny." Prussia's half smirk lessened. "Vhat un-awesome thing happened to you?"

"My economy crashed." The New Worlder shivered as a draft of wind penetrated the old building, pulling his hoodie tighter around him. "A-and then- anarchists- revolution-" His eyes went wide with fear for a moment, but with another shudder (not so much due to cold this time, Gilbert guessed) he settled down and leaned- slumped, more like- against the wall next to his fellow nation. "Everything's settled down now and America's helping me out more than he usually does, but it still hurts."

"...You had an entire revolt?" Prussia asked, surprised.

Canada nodded miserably. "It's not that strange... is it?"

Gilbert chuckled under his breath. "It's nothing. It just doesn't seem like something you vould be involved in, such a peaceful nation..." His smile twitched slightly- he was desperately trying to refrain from marching off to Canada and yelling at the guy's boss until Germany placed him under house arrest, not that he'd say something like that out loud.

Canada sighed. "I guess there were a lot of rebels I didn't know about. When they came out, I couldn't do anything useful... it was like being torn apart from the inside..." He shot his fellow nation another glance. "You've never really had a civil war, have you?"

"No, but I'm awesome enough to have gotten into many vars." Gilbert grimaced, as though recalling something unpleasant- which he was. "It is never pleasant if you lose too many resources. It is completely un-awesome that such a young nation as yourself had to deal vith such horrors."

"Ah."

Prussia didn't respond, instead mulling over the circumstances that had brought him to this specific situation. He knew he was acting uncharacteristically quiet (although he had absolutely no idea why), and he wanted to know the true reasons behind his own mysterious behavior.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of Canada retching beside him.

Shocked, he whipped around to face the nation, to find him curled into a ball next to a puddle of something he didn't want to think about.

"Canada! Vhat just happened?!" Prussia knelt beside his- and now he finally admitted it to himself- friend in concern.

It was Canada's turn to grimace now, and he did so as his face turned white and he gritted his teeth to speak. "Quebec tried to rebel again... More violently than usual..." He forced a partial smile up at Gilbert even as a long, bloody line tore its way across his arm. "I'll be fine..."

Prussia frowned and picked Matthew up bridal-style. "No, you von't. Ve need to get help." He carried his... friend... (he tasted the word in his mind, fitted it to the definition of Canada, memorized the results for later use) down the hallways, trying to remember the way he'd come from.

Canada didn't protest, instead shivering every few minutes. It became apparent that these new rebellions were not solely limited to Quebec as fresh wounds began to rip through Matthew's skin, and soon they were dripping a literal trail of blood onto the carpet behind them.

"Stay awake." Prussia hissed. "Do not fall asleep."

"I-I'm not..." Canada whimpered.

"Don't talk, either." Prussia added abruptly.

Every step more and more determined, more and more challenging, Prussia trudged his way in the general direction of the stairs. He would not give in. He was too awesome to give in.

"Maybe if ve called your boss he could get us help." Prussia grunted. "Try harder at stopping the revolts. Be more awesome."

Matthew shivered. "Can't."

"...Vhy not?"

"My boss... doesn't notice... me... He doesn't... know... I exist."

"...Whaaat? Really?"

Matthew gave a quick, jerking nod before letting out another scream of pain. Prussia flinched and quickened his pace, trying to find some moderation between fast and bumpy versus slow and steady.

As he walked, he wondered if they could make it in time. Canada was in bad condition and constantly getting worse, and the conference hall was so far away...

Of course they could. He was awesome, right? He could get out of this, and he could do so while keeping his friend alive.

They turned a corner, and his eyes met with a most-welcomed blessing: stairs.

The first floor, while complex, was far easier to navigate than the basement; within minutes, he burst into the conference hall screaming for help.

The shocked faces of over a hundred nations greeted his return.

* * *

Canada was not present at the next world conference.

Prussia spent the entire meeting searching through the crowds for the nation. He went so far as to kick America out of the seat at the head table and yell the question to all of the present nations.

"Why do you want to know?" America had replied, annoyed. "And why's it important enough for you to interrupt the entire meeting for it?"

"Vhere is he?!" Prussia yelled, leaning down and glaring at the country.

America leaned back, flinching slightly. "Dude, Canada's in the middle of a war! He's not well enough to go out!"

Before he could demand any more answers, Germany had dragged him off of the table and was telling him off for disrupting the meeting("Ja, I know it vould have ended in chaos sooner or later, but that is no reason to be the cause of it!").

* * *

Canada was not present at America's birthday party.

Prussia had snuck over without an invitation and without his brother's permission, determined to see the ailing nation. He'd worn a cleverly awesome disguise, and for once he bided his time carefully- waiting for just the right moment to approach Matthew's brother.

America headed for the bathroom about an hour and thirty minutes after Gilbert's arrival (A good thing, that- he was getting bored waiting and probably would have just jumped the guy in front of the others sooner or later if he hadn't). He followed the nation to the door and waited until he heard the sink turn on before bursting in.

America looked up, surprised, hands still covered in suds. "Hungary? What are you doin' in the guy's restroom?"

Prussia wasted no time, shoving Alfred against the counter in fury. "Hungary vas sick today." He hissed, glaring at the New World nation. "Vhere is Canada?"

America looked confused (tipsy again, Prussia thought) for a few seconds, before catching sight of his bright red eyes and registering the strange masculine accent his assailant bore. "P-Prussia?!"

"Vhere is Canada?" Prussia repeated lowly, narrowing his eyes. He gritted his teeth, just about ready to destroy the guy.

"I-If you don't let me go, I'll-"

"I don't care." Gilbert said. "You know I'll be able to break a few bones before you can do anything to me, and that vill be enough."

America's eyes went wide with fear. "H-he's still at war! He's not supposed to have any visitors!"

"Vhere is he?"

"Safe! In a hospital- I can't remember the address!"

Prussia frowned. The answer wasn't completely awesome, but at least Matthew was being cared for... "Vell then. It was awesome, friend." He smirked evilly and hit the nation hard on the head, effectively knocking him out. He dropped the unconscious birthday boy and left without another word.

A few days later, France would call them to describe how America had gotten so drunk on his birthday that he'd passed out in the bathroom, hit his head on the countertop, and had some kind of a dream that made everyone else wonder if he was on drugs. Gilbert just laughed.

* * *

A year finally came and went, and Prussia found himself and his brother once more obligated to attend America's Christmas party. He wouldn't have gone but for the unaffordable threat of the New Worlder's rage, by now fairly sure Canada would be absent once more.

America greeted them at a door this time- Germany with a zealous hug, Prussia with a wary look, a forced smile, and a stiff handshake. Prussia knew America knew- or at least suspected- the event at his party hadn't just been a drunken dream. He knew America had asked Hungary about it, and she had responded by telling him she had been there for the first half and had left after a while (and had then proceeded to tell Gilbert off for mugging America in a public bathroom on his birthday, but she didn't mention that to Alfred and her tone wasn't nearly as angry as her choice of words) but she had most definitely not gone into the men's bathroom- she insisted without a doubt she had accepted her feminine side long ago. Prussia also knew that Germany didn't have a clue, because he would have already gotten yelled at for it if West had figured it out.

But all the same, he offered Alfred a smirk in return before marching into the room like the awesome person he was.

Almost immediately, someone came up behind him and gave him a surprise hug. "Onhonhonhon~"

Prussia threw the man over his shoulder and onto the floor in front of him. He leaned over the nation with a smirk. "You're not awesome enough to sneak up on me, France- I saw you coming a mile away because I am so awesome."

"Of course you did, mon ami~" France smirked in return, pulling himself off of the floor. "Whatever you say... so long as you go out with me for dinner, onhonhonhon~"

"Hah! Not on your life." Prussia grinned at his friend. "I know vhat you do to dates; I am too awesome to become a victim."

"Well, if that is the case, then why not give it a try?~"

"Vhy not try your charms on a turtle? They may have a greater effect."

"Well, do you have a turtle on you?"

"Hah! Vhy would I have a turtle vith me on Christmas?!"

"Perhaps as an, ah, little present for Spain...? Onhonhonhon~"

"Hahaha... France, you are truly creepy."

"Oh! That hurts my feelings...~"

"It's because you're not awesome enough to deal with my awesome!"

"Heey, mis amigos! You're early this year!" France and Prussia looked up to find Spain waving at them, already holding a beer in his free hand. They waved back (well, France did this creepy finger-fluttering thing, but Prussia was fairly sure it counted as a wave) as he approached.

"Either of you seen Scotland yet?" Spain asked, smiling.

"No, but I haven't seen dear Iggy yet, either... I suppose they have not arrived yet~" France replied. He hesitated and added as an afterthought, "Or maybe he's already drunk, onhonhonhon~"

"It... ah... wouldn't surprise me, with that one..." Spain said.

"The awesome me does not understand. Vhich one, Scotland or England?"

Spain shrugged. "Either. The only difference is that Scotland can hold his alcohol better."

"Hahaha! I can agree with that!" France said happily. "Now, friends, let us go get beer."

"Beer is awesome!" Prussia agreed wholeheartedly.

Spain frowned, glancing at the contents of the mug in his hand. He shrugged again and downed it in record time before raising the glass container above his head. "Seconds are always appreciated!"

The trio dashed across the room, almost hitting several nations as they made their way to the beer table. Prussia himself narrowly avoided a collision with Liechtenstein, which would have ended unspeakably horribly on his part- he was sure Switzerland had a gun hidden under his clothes. At the very least, the odd bulge in the Swiss' side looked very suspicious, and he was pretty sure nations didn't really get tumors that big.

Four glasses and one red-headed Scotsman later, the three-now-four were laughing in the corner as they watched a certain Arthur Kirkland yelling at Hungary about his issues with Russia. Alcohol worked wonders on the Englishman, and Prussia wrote himself a mental note to ask France for the undoubtedly awesome undoubtedly being filmed tape after the party. That man would film or take pictures of anything potentially embarrassing to England. Consistently.

Prussia turned to glance at his friend to make sure the video was going well, and then noticed France wasn't actually laughing so much as chuckling. There was a peculiar gleam in his eye, and, sure enough, he held one of those mobile phones discreetly in his hand.

Prussia put off the abnormal look to the beer and went back to laughing at England, who had just gotten the brunt of a blow from Hungary's frying pan.

It was just about then that he once again saw violet eyes in the crowd.

Prussia stopped laughing immediately, staring at the other nation. He looked happy but sad all at once, watching England yelling, and appeared to be leaning rather heavily against a wall. In one hand Gilbert saw a glimmer of silver- crutches, maybe- and in the other an ice pack held against his leg.

As he watched, Matthew heaved himself off of the wall and began to limp away.

Prussia glanced at his friends. Scotland was busy downing another drink, Spain had wandered off to find Romano, and France still had that creepy watching-England glimmer in his eyes. He would not be missed for some time.

Carefully, he slunk off. The crowd of nations closed behind him like a curtain, masking his escape as he awesomely and stealthily headed for the least crowded area of the room: near the entrance, far away from the food and the entertainment. He figured he had maybe thirty minutes to find Canada if he wanted to watch the fireworks- which were always the best part of America's parties. All of the nations would be heading outside to see them soon.

Prussia looked around and saw the back of a red sweatshirt leaving the room. He ran after Canada, knowing at the very least he could catch him on his way back in; besides, it wasn't like he had much to lose, and it was probably just a bathroom break anyways.

To his faint surprise, Canada went right past the bathroom, and vanished around a corner. Despite the fact that Prussia was walking faster than the injured man, by the time he'd turned the same corner the nation was well out of sight- and three or four more turn offs nearby meant he wouldn't be so easily found.

But, he now realized, something else was becoming plainly visible.

Back in the more public areas of the building, the janitors had taken care to make sure the bloodstains on the floor were gone(Bad form for potential visitors and school children on field trips- Prussia supposed they shouldn't scar the kids); however, in the less public areas where only the most official of officials would go, not so much. The liquid was dried and faded, but he could vaguely see brown marks on the floor like droplets of iodine leading on into the abyss.

So that was where Canada was going.

Prussia stepped up the pace, now confident that he could find his friend even though he was apparently too slow to catch a heavily injured limping Canadian. He didn't know why Canada was going back to that place, but he was more than willing to follow.

He turned the final corner and saw those first-shed spatters of blood on the wall. With a shiver of faint disgust, Gilbert sat down and waited. Canada would be coming back soon, he was sure. He had to be sure, in a way.

Just a few minutes later, a familiar form turned the corner. Canada's violet eyes glanced at Prussia, didn't seem so much surprised as tired. Nobody spoke; the injured nation limped over and slid down the wall next to Prussia with a sigh.

"H-hey..."

Prussia smirked. "Vhat? Do you think I've forgotten you?"

Now Canada's face seemed to light up in shock and. Prussia was surprised to note, happiness. "Y-you do remember me...? After an entire year?"

"Vell, of course. I'm too awesome to forget anything." Prussia looked straight at the New Worlder and his smirk became slightly more like a genuine smile before it fell into a frown. "Vhat happened?"

Canada glanced down. "...More rebellions. Terrorists... I think it's over now. America put me in one of his hospitals so I could be properly cared for, but half of the time they completely forgot about me, so it took me a long time to recover."

The two waited tensely for a few seconds, each half-sure that Matthew was about to start screaming in pain once more. When it didn't happen, Prussia rushed to fill the silence.

"...I looked for you, you know."

"You did?"

"Ja, I did. I went to the vorld meeting and awesomely kicked America out of his chair so I could get on the table and ask them all about it, but nobody told me anything awesome before Germany pulled me off."

Canada blinked, his face disbelieving, the hand holding the ice pack to his leg dropping slowly to the floor before releasing its grip on the object and not bothering to retrieve it. "R-really?"

Prussia nodded awesomely. "And then I snuck into his birthday party. I dressed as Hungary because I knew she vouldn't be there, and then I awesomely mugged him in the bathroom for information."

Canada gave him a surprised look. "So he wasn't just dreaming that?"

Prussia shook his head and smirked. "You should have seen the look he gave me vhen I valked through the door to this party. If he had laser vision, I vould be dead."

Canada laughed, his voice still as quiet as ever. "That's just the kind of thing America would do." He smiled now, and Gilbert felt happiness flood him for some reason- it was something he didn't understand at all, but somehow seeing the shy brother of Alfred smiling just really made his day.

"I vas just vondering, Canada..."

"What?"

Prussia felt his face flush slightly and inwardly cursed as he met the other nation's gaze head-on. Why the heck am I so nervous today? "V-vell, I vas vondering- vhat is it like, being ignored by everyone? Does everyone ignore you?"

Canada looked perturbed for a moment, but then he sighed. "I guess... it makes me feel kinda worthless. Unwanted. Y-you get used to it, but you don't, eh? I've never enjoyed it... and... yes. Everybody ignores me but you. I don't know why..." He cleared his throat. "But even though you're the only one who remembers me, it feels less lonely being with somebody who knows me."

Prussia felt the uncharacteristic blush flare up and turned away in shame. He felt Matthew touch his arm and turned around to face his friend out of some kind of courtesy, hunching his shoulders in a halfhearted attempt to hide the redness.

Then he saw that Canada looked a little pink too, and he realized this was one of many things he would never have to hide from the nation.

Slightly unnerved, Gilbert checked his watch and cleared his throat. "Say... the fireworks vill be starting in just a few minutes. Do you vant to go up and vatch them?"

For a few moments, Matthew looked unsure, and Prussia's confidence in his answer shrunk considerably. But then the nation smiled even wider than before, and Gilbert's heart leapt when he heard the response echo in his ears.

"Yes." Canada replied quietly.

Prussia grinned then- a real grin, not one of his signature smirks. He got to his feet and helped Matthew up, letting the injured man use his shoulder as a prop. They walked mostly at the same pace, following the dried blood trail to the staircase and then up. The other nations had already gone out, but not before leaving a smell of alcohol and the world behind them; it was an oddly comforting smell, a reminder of the vague unity they all suffered through, and Prussia welcomed it as he held the door for Canada.

Prussia sat down in a relatively snow-free spot several yards away from the other nations. Canada gingerly took a spot beside him, and the two looked up to the skies.

The first of the fireworks exploded in brilliant bursts of red, white, and blue. They were the fanciest kinds, forming themselves into shapes, into flags: first America, then Great Britain, then France. The list went on and on, each nation present represented in the flashing colors, a true spectacle to behold. Even Russia's eventually made a round, despite his absence from the celebrations. Prussia saw Sealand's, and Canada's, and Cuba's. He even saw one that was a hazy semblance of his own, even though he wasn't a nation any more (And why was it that somehow that wasn't so terrible any more?).

Eventually, about halfway through the presentation, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.

Prussia stiffened, ready to throw the perpetrator into the snowy ground. He sharply twisted to his right, throwing the limb off of his side and bearing his teeth in a snarl. His hand automatically went for the knife sheathed in his boot, but he didn't draw it- not yet. As he leaned forward aggressively, his brain processed the image of the nation sitting next to him.

Canada.

Gilbert forced himself to relax as his fellow nation recoiled in surprise. He sighed, rolled his red eyes, and nodded at the country.

Carefully, Canada replaced the arm. Prussia remained still, examining the New Worlder's every move like the eagle that was on his flag, waiting for him to do something else.

But Matthew seemed perfectly content to sit on the cold winter ground, resting his head on Prussia's shoulder.

Gilbert let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Liechtenstein's flag flashed in the sky, and hesitantly he put his own arm around Canada's shoulders. The nation who nobody noticed didn't flinch, only shifted slightly as Prussia leaned into the embrace.

Switzerland. Finland. Argentina.

Like some great parade, the black sky flowed with glowing colors, but beneath those emblazoned lights loomed the forms of two lonely nations holding off the true darkness of the world.

"Don't forget me." Canada whispered.

Prussia rested his head on Matthew's and chuckled warmly into his ear.

"I vill never forget."

* * *

**All right, something like an author's note! This is the first story I've posted and is also only the second or third I've written that's one-shottish at all- although it might end up being a one-shot series because I have so many other random pairing ideas right now :P And yes, Batlion, this is probably what you think it is, and yes, I realize that is not your author name.**

**Please excuse me if this isn't very well written- this is the first time I've ever written fluff. I'm generally more of an action-adventure person, but recently I've been going total fangirl and this is the result :D**

**Also, I own nothing in this story. This can be considered a disclaimer~**

**Anyhow, for everyone else out there on the world wide web, reviews are always welcome; I want to know how bad this ended up being~ Gracias and adios, AF-DS out~**


	2. In Your Dreams

"WHAT?!"

The exclamation, which had followed an unusually long period of silence, almost burst England's eardrums.

The nation groaned as his former colony jumped to his feet, an angry flush turning the man's face bright red. "H-he's dating WHO?!"

Germany sighed, rubbing his forehead and muttering a '_Mein Gott_' under his breath (England himself probably wouldn't have heard it, but he was sitting right next to the guy). "He's dating Canada, America. Prussia is vith Canada."

The New World nation's eyes narrowed in anger. "W-wha- No! I won't let them! Surely you guys agree with me, right? Prussia can't date Canada!" He glared around the table, challenging anyone who would meet his gaze.

"Honestly, I don't see the problem." England stated primly, folding his arms. "Prussia can't cause much trouble since he's not a nation, and I don't think Canada would let him anyways. Besides, their personalities are so different I can't imagine their relationship lasting very long."

"For once I agree, _Angleterre_. Besides, they make quite a cute couple, _onhonhonhon_~" France leaned back in the chair and rested his feet on the table, his fancy designer shoes clicking against the fancy wood and making England flinch.

"And if it is them both being mare that is causing you probrems, you have never had issues with Sweden and Finrand." Japan pointed out.

"No! It's not that!" America slammed his fist down at the table, making Italy jump. "It's just wrong, y'know? Like England's cooking!"

"WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MY COOKING, YOU BLOODY COLONY?!" England jumped to his own feet, fully prepared to strangle the other nation.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." America waved England off, instead turning to the others. "But you agree with me, don't you, Russia?"

"Personally, I think it would be better if you all just became one with Russia, _da_?" The pale haired man smiled cheerfully, and Italy began rapidly scooting away from the nation, moving closer to Germany.

That was usually enough to deter most people, but as England watched America shook off the fear and turned to Ludwig. "You've gotta agree with me- you live with Prussia! It's not right for them to be together!"

There was silence around the table as they waited for Germany's response. The blonde nation looked uncomfortable for several moments, glancing at all those present and undoubtedly thinking through his response.

Finally, Ludwig dropped his head, closed his eyes, and sighed. "All I can say is that during the past several months vhile they have been together in secret,_ mein älterer Bruder_ vas the happiest I had ever seen him. He has not had a fit of depression since last Christmas. I... do not vish him to be unhappy again."

England had to hold back a chortle as America's face turned an even brighter red. "F-fine!" He stammered. "I'll take care of it myself!"

The other nations watched Alfred as he shoved back his chair and marched furiously out the door.

Canada, forgotten in his spot next to Russia, looked around sadly. "Don't I get a say in this?"

But, just as ever, he was ignored.

Japan cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence spreading throughout the room. "So... what erse do we have to tark about, Germany?"

Ludwig jerked his head up as though he'd been daydreaming (Daydreaming? Hah, not likely with a guy that uptight, England thought.). "Oh! Ah, yes. Indeed. Vell, first there are the issues vith terrorism..."

The German man continued on as ever, but England found himself drifting off- he'd stupidly gone out drinking the night before and had woken up with a hangover that had hardly worn off by the time he'd gotten to the building where the meeting was taking place. He struggled to keep himself awake, but by the time Russia brought up China for the first time his head had hit the table and he was out.

* * *

A gentle hand tapped his shoulder, the feeling just barely making it through the shroud of unconsciousness. He grumbled slightly and shifted away from the touch, desperate to remain as he was, but the fingers came back- this time resting on his shoulder.

"Little _Angleterre_..."

The Frenchman's voice drifted into his dream, and his form materialized in a meadow full of wildflowers. England blinked, furrowed his brow- and then relaxed._ Ah, this dream again._

He walked forward and took Dream-France's waiting hand, just like he always did. The nation smiled at him just like he always did, and then they walked through the long grass just like they always did. He had this dream most every night, or something like it, and sometimes it was the only thing that kept him sane.

"Ah, you're smiling." Dream-France said, which didn't usually happen. They stopped and they sat in the meadow, still holding hands, still beautifully together- something England knew he would never experience with the real Francis Bonnefoy.

Dream-France sat a little farther back than him and leaned in with a smile. "You're so cute when you're sleeping, _mon ami_..._ non, mon amour_." Arthur felt the nation's lips touch his ear and he shivered.

Dream-France leaned back with a sigh. "I suppose it would be wrong for me to leave you here, _Angleterre_. Let me take you home... it is a good thing the conference was in London, _non_?"

Just before the dream faded and left him to blackness, England found himself being carried away- bridal-style- by the nation who only really existed in his mind.

And yet he didn't seem to care.

* * *

When Arthur Kirkland woke up the next morning, he felt far more refreshed than he had in years.

Well, at least that was the first thing he thought.

A moment later, he realized he'd actually fallen asleep at the meeting... but here he was, lying curled up on his own couch in his own house, and he couldn't remember how the heck he'd gotten there.

England blinked, rubbed his head, sat up. A brief flash of Dream-France's smile flickered through his head, but he pushed it away- that was something to be thought about at night, and he avoided the memory of it altogether in his wakefulness.

Flying Mint Bunny and his other friends greeted him as he headed for the kitchen. The small area, clearly built for utility instead of appearance, was a mess, covered in scorch marks and spilt ingredients he'd stopped bothering to clean after it became clear they would just reappear in a few days, but it was his kitchen and he took pride in it anyways. What else could he do? Admit he was a terrible cook? Hah, never.

The scones came out only a little burnt, and tea was easy after so many years of practice. England was able to sit down to a pleasant breakfast with little trouble, and that paved the way for the rest of his day- relaxation and peace at long last.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, Dream-France's actions still nagged at his curiosity.

* * *

The restful day was followed by a similar week- the frog didn't come by, America was probably still simmering off somewhere by himself, and the world conference he'd have to attend had already been planned for on his part. His friends kept him company so he wasn't lonely, and they, at least, had no qualms with his cooking.

But all good things have to end, and this one ended with a flight to Germany for the previously stated conference.

It felt like England's mood sunk lower and lower the closer he got to the country. It was improved by the presence of Flying Mint Bunny, who had agreed to tag along for moral support, but he really couldn't help sinking into his normal bad mood once more. Sometimes he really hated being a nation.

Upon arrival, he talked with Norway for a bit about magic and the like before heading inside. The room was already buzzing with activity (particularly arguments), and Flying Mint Bunny had to gain some altitude so she wouldn't get hit by all of the oblivious nations.

They were all oblivious idiots, excluding himself and Norway, and even Norway preferred the company of trolls- so England was clearly superior.

Eventually, their host country called the meeting to order, and all of the nations took their seats. Flying Mint Bunny landed on his shoulder, and he patted her head in a silent thank you, feeling some of the awful stress leave him before Germany began with his first point.

England listened, remembering the first two or three from their G8 meeting just the week prior. After that, he supposed, was when he had drifted off and fallen asleep and somehow ended up at his own house afterwards. He frowned at the memory, casting a glance at America (who looked even prissier than usual and was glaring around the room, particularly at Germany) and then at France (who didn't appear to be paying much attention to the meeting, instead focusing all of his attention at... at...)

Dear God, was that pervert looking at_ him_?!

England met France's gaze with an indignant glare, and the blue-eyed nation turned away quickly.

Was he_ blushing_?

Arthur, now paying absolutely no attention to the meeting whatsoever, began to wonder if he was going insane. France, _bashful_? What kind of a messed up parallel universe _was_ this?! Had Netherlands spiked his punch again? Was he drunk? Heck, had Switzerland shot him or something?

And then, of course, being the master of espionage he was, England formulated a plan. He whispered it in detail to Flying Mint Bunny, who shared her opinion of it and gave him some tips (That he didn't need since he was the perfect spy). They agreed to execute the plan within the next five minutes or so.

His friend took off, ready to be his lookout. She circled above the heads of the nations, attracting a raised eyebrow from Norway. England glanced around furtively, confirming that nobody else looked suspicious, and somehow his gaze met France's once again.

Well, actually, the Frenchman was looking up in the air in confusion (and... was that... fear?). His eyes seemed to be following something, something in motion, but then he looked down and saw England's look and not-so-smoothly went back to paying attention to the meeting.

England glanced up. The only thing in the air at the moment was Flying Mint Bunny, but he knew Frenchy couldn't see magical creatures... right?

He shook it off, noticing one of the lights flickering faintly. He must have been staring at that. Yes, that must be it. The frog was afraid of lights. That made_ perfect_ sense.

England turned his gaze back to the meeting. It was time to implement the plan.

Slowly, deliberately, he yawned. Japan- sitting just to his right- shot him a confused look which he didn't bother returning. The meeting didn't even pause in continuity, Germany prattling on about whatever in the vague hope they'd actually get something done before someone did something stupid.

Arthur blinked slowly, trying to dull his gaze so he gave off the impression of tiredness. Germany made another point and he interrupted, arguing its contrary, and that was enough.

The room exploded in a sudden burst of brawling nations, but for once England didn't join in. He let his head slip towards the table as convincingly as he could, feigning tiredness. Eventually, with one last yawn, he let his forehead rest on the table.

For the next thirty minutes until the meeting adjourned, he laid there, not moving and desperately trying to even his breathing- even when a certain Chinese man made a jab at his cooking (and his opium issues), he wasn't swayed from his quest. Finally Germany called it quits, leaving the room in a fit of anger that England had no trouble hearing over the crowd. The other nations made a mad dash for the exit, leaving him alone in the room.

A minute passed, then two. He shifted slightly, wondering if he should just up and leave like everyone else- no use in wasting a perfectly good day pretending to be asleep in a stuffy conference room- when heard someone sigh.

_Not so alone after all_.

It was all England could do to not jump up at France's voice.

"You fell asleep again,_ Angleterre_. Is your economy all right...? I can't help but worry at times like these." England followed the sharp slap of designer shoes against cold floor, nervously tracking the nation's progress around the table. He felt a hand ruffle his hair, and mentally struggled to keep himself still.

"Ah,_ mon amour, mon amour_." The nation sighed again. "Why must you look even cuter when you're unconscious?" He paused for a moment. "It makes it hard to hate you out loud."

England couldn't help it- he twitched a little when the Frenchman planted a kiss on his head. The man jumped back in surprise before chuckling softly, proceeding to scoot his fellow nation off of the chair and into his arms. "Come on,_ Angleterre_, I'll take you home. These chairs are horribly uncomfortable, _non_?"

And that was how the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland found himself carried out of the conference room, bridal-style, by France- his arch-nemesis-turned-admirer. It would have been horribly degrading, but he was sure none of the other nations were in the building (meaning it was only humiliating to him in his own mind, which was almost as bad). And yet, he kept still, convincing himself it was for espionage purposes and in no way because it felt as nice being carried by real France as it had being carried by Dream-France. No. Way. Never. Not that it felt nice being carried by Dream-France. It didn't feel nice...

The door swung open, admitting them to the world outside, and England involuntarily shivered at the sudden blast of cold air. France chuckled, shifting him closer so his head was almost resting on the other nation's shoulder. "It's cold, _mon amour_- just like you are when you are awake. I wish you would be warm,_ Angleterre_."

Well, crap- why did France have to be so bloody sappy towards him? It was disturbing (and yet, somehow, it wasn't so bad), and it made him feel kind of guilty for being so rude to the nation all the time. Not that he'd ever be nice to the frog. No bloody way.

France shifted him around, and England heard the click of an opening car door. He felt himself gently placed down in a sitting position, another click as the frog used the seatbelt, and a third as the door closed (gently, he noticed, as though the Frenchman was really making an effort not to wake him). The car door on the opposite side opened a few minutes later, and then the car was in motion.

England cracked an eyelid to peer at his driver. France was looking straight ahead, a faint smile on his lips, a sad gleam in his eyes. He looked towards the back of the car and noticed Flying Mint Bunny in the backseat- good, she'd made it.

"You know,_ Angleterre_," France began, and England shut his eye again, "When I heard about Prussia and Canada, I began to wonder-_ non_, hope- that we could have a chance too." He sighed. "I guess it can't be so, _mon amour_, but it was a lovely dream."

Arthur desperately tried to avoid turning red, but his cheeks flushed without warning- bloody romantic frog. With any luck, he hadn't noticed anything.

"Ah, what's this? I suppose_ mon lapin_ must be dreaming, _onhonhonhon_... If only you would dream of me."

_So much for keeping my dignity_, he thought idly._ But... why does that feel so flattering?_

_Bloody frog, I_ have_ dreamt of you_. England thought, but he couldn't bring himself to actually give up on his espionage and speak it out loud. Then his brain jarred to a halt, and... _Wait, did he just call me his rabbit?_

That was unforgivable.

But before he could actually go so far as to blow his cover, the car pulled to a stop. "Here we are,_ mon amou_r. It's a good thing I know where you are staying, hmm?"

_Creep. Stalker._

So why did he find _that_ as oddly flattering as the quip about his blush?

Car doors opened and shut, seatbelts came undone, and England once more found himself in the arms of the Frenchman. He shifted, trying to get himself into a more comfortable position, and his carrier chuckled.

Under any normal conditions, he would have gone berserk at the injustice of being carried like a girl, but he was enjo- nono_no_ THIS WAS_ ESPIONAGE_ and he was doing it for espionage-ey reasons. He did _not_ have a thing for the frog. No way.

They entered the hotel, and France somehow convinced the receptionist to lend him a room key (England could just imagine France's cheesy pervert-smile and had to convince himself he was disgusted rather than jealous). They went all the way to the top floor- England knew because he made it a point to do so in case he had to be picked up by a helicopter in a traditional espionage escape- and to what must have been his room, because the frog had to shift him around and slide the electronic key into the lock so the door swung open.

England felt himself being set down on the bed, and he relaxed._ Finally... it's over. I can go home and relax and pretend none of this ever happened..._

France's lips met his cheek, and he stiffened. _Crap._

"I love you,_ mon amour_."

The Frenchman turned to leave, but before he could England muttered, "I love you too, you bloody frog."

Now it was the other country's turn to stiffen in shock. "..._Angleterre_?" He whispered.

_...Why did I just...?_ England frowned in confusion.

_Because it's true_, he realized a moment later.

_Craaaap._

No choice, then. England sighed and pulled himself up, facing away from the Frenchman. "I-I lo..." He worked his jaw, trying to say the words again. Finally he gave up, feeling like his face was on fire. "I was awake the entire time. I heard everything."

"..._Angleterre._.."

"A-and... I think..." He shuddered. "I think..."

France stepped around the bed, placed an arm around his shoulder. England froze at the touch, turning his head away. "Do you feel the same,_ mon lapin_?"

"...D-don't call me that."

"What, _mon lapin_? But you call me frog..."

"I-it's different, all right?! Just don't!"

France sighed. "All right, but only because it's you."

_Bloody frog._

"I have dreams about you sometimes." England forced the words out of his mouth. "Where we talk civilly and drink tea and laugh. I never put any belief in them, because I never thought they'd become true."

"Will they?"

England hesitated. "I... don't know."

France sighed, pulling the other nation into a full blown hug. "_Angleterre_, do you love me?" He asked seriously.

England opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Unable to speak, he responded with a jerky nod, trying to stop his eyes from watering.

France pulled back from the embrace and looked at him, and he saw the other nation's eyes were filled with happy tears just like his own. The two sat there for a while, looking at one another, enjoying each other's company.

"...Would you like to share some dinner with me, _mon amour_?" One Francis Bonnefoy asked quietly.

"Yes." One Arthur Kirkland replied.

England got to his feet shakily, wiping at his eyes and feeling like an idiot. "Do you know any decent restaurants around here?"

France smiled. "Of course, _Angleterre_- I _am_ the best of friends with Prussia. There is a wonderful diner just down the street that sells cuisines from every corner of the world."

"...Well, shall we?" England asked, helping the Frenchman off of the bed.

"_Oui, mon lapin._"

"I thought I told you not to call me that, you bloody frog!"

France laughed at his angry face, then turned and motioned for the shorter country to follow. "This will be interesting, _mon amour_."

_Indeed it shall_, England thought, running after the frog (suddenly, the name sounded a lot more affectionate) as they made their way to the elevator and then onto the streets._ Indeed it shall._

* * *

**...Well, this turned out completely different than I expected it to.**

**No, really! I was going to make some point about France being able to see Flying Mint Bunny in there, but it didn't happen. Maybe later. And I was thinking of maybe having England trying to carry France home, but that didn't work out either sooo... Anyhow, yeah. That was almost cheesier than the last one. I hope nobody's been too OOC so far. If so, please tell me so I can fix that grievous mistake.**

**In case you're wondering, this is also a heckuva lot shorter. The first one was about 8.5K. This one's around 3.2. It all depends on the style and the plot, I guess XD I think maybe in some later chapter or another I might go back to this and write about the cafe and stuff, because in my mind they meet Prussia and Canada there and there's a lot of potential awesomeness that could go on with that.**

**I really need to make my motifs clearer. The first one's supposed to be about the flags and how everyone's sorta connected; this one's clearer because it's about dreams and stuff. Well, I guess it's all about getting to be a better writer, so...**

**America's mostly angry because he's worried about Canada and he thinks Prussia could be a bad influence. Since nobody else seems to be taking his side, he's not getting over it as quickly as you might expect.**

**Just so you know:**

**Mon ami- my friend**

**Mon amour- my love**

**Mon lapin- my rabbit**

**Angleterre- England **

**Oui- Yes**

**That's all French~ If any of it's wrong, please tell me.**

**As always, none of this belongs to me~**

**Thanks to all the reviewers~ I'm glad to know none of you think it totally sucked, especially TJ Knight because she created an account just so she could comment with it... or something. Which is awesome like Prussia. And Batlion because he didn't get completely weirded out by the fact that I, of all people, am writing romance. And NOMNOMBUNNYWILLEATYOURSOUL for the compliment (you have an awesome name, BTW~), and spiritualnekohime4 for the awesome emoticon-face-thing :D And this Taylor-guest-person who was awesome enough to go through the additional measures of being a guest who actually hands out compliments.**

**If anything's unclear, just ask and I'll do my best to clarify~**

**Feel free to review, comment, yell at me, I don't even know. This is probably written a lot worse than the first one, but I assure you I am the same person~ AF-DS, out once again~**


	3. Monsters and Tears

When Prussia finally told Germany about Canada, he was surprised. Shocked. Furious, even, mostly because it felt like his brother hadn't trusted him before- it had been months since they'd gotten together and he had not been informed. He had locked himself in his room in his fury and resentment and self-doubt, refusing to put a single hair out of the area for three days, spending his time meticulously scrubbing and dusting and straightening until there wasn't so much as a dust particle out of place.

He would have stayed longer, too, but Italy (Apparently just coming for a visit) had somehow managed to get into the house and then into his bed. Prussia hadn't noticed, Austria hadn't noticed, even Hungary- who was staying over to help with the matter at hand- claimed to have seen nothing the day he emerged (Though she'd had a suspicious gleam in her eye when she'd made the claim, so he didn't put much belief in it- this _was_ Hungary, after all).

Feliciano convinced him to come out, partially with numerous and very floor-staining tears (Germany loudly told off the nation for questioning his need to lock himself in the room, which by obligation meant crying would ensue) and partially because if he stayed any longer it would mean several days alone with one of the most annoying, cowardly countries on the planet and nigh-endless teasing from his brother. Italy was his friend, nothing more. Prussia was just love-blind.

Dinner that first night was rough- Canada visited, and Ludwig couldn't look at the pair, focusing nervously on his plate of pancakes. Austria, seemingly disgusted, opted to eat in the living room, which the aristocratic country had never even considered before. Italy chatted on happily to anyone who would listen, namely Elizabeta, who seemed somehow awkward and excited at the same time, carefully watching every action they made like some kind of a starving vulture.

Soon he found a week had passed, and Canada came for dinner on Saturday night once more. Ludwig gave things a month to settle down and every single day ended up being an awkward mess, made worse because Roderich had taken to skulking around in the music room with the doors locked (Much like Germany had, but nobody bothered to mess with the aristocrat) and Hungary and Italy had gone home. That meant it was generally just Prussia and himself in the house, sometimes with the addition of Matthew, who made it over every Saturday for dinner no matter how cold Germany acted.

_How could mein älterer Bruder hide this from me? Does he really not trust me?_

One lonely Sunday about two months after his brother had first brought Matthew to officially meet him, Germany found himself alone in their house. Prussia was out with Canada at the time, probably on some kind of a date that would likely last for several hours, and Austria, as per usual this past month, was playing his stress-filled Mozart song expression in the music room. They lived a good distance out in the country, so he figured he would finally have some time to think without interruption.

He was just considering making himself lunch when the doorbell rang. He got up with a groan, sure it was either his boss with a surprise inspection or some lost human _dummkopf_ coming to ask for directions- _again_ (So _maybe_ their house wasn't on the _autobahn_, but they had road signs, stupid citizens!).

Walking stiffly to the door, Germany swung it open with a bang. He leered over the figure and yelled something violently in German, fully prepared to grab the gun hanging decoratively by the door (he kept it loaded with the safety on, but nobody needed to know that).

With a screech and a cry of "Veeee~" Italy scrambled back into the last dregs of winter snow, cowering under the shadow of the German man.

A small part of Germany's mind remembered the days when many nations did as such, back during the World War when Poland and the Sudetenland and even- briefly- France had knelt to him. An even smaller part revelled in it now, and the feeling reminded him of some of the evil he still bore scars of; he pushed it back and knelt beside his friend.

"Ah, Italy. I... did not know it was you."

"Oh! Germany!" Italy suddenly broke into a big grin, propping himself up into a sitting position in the pile of snow he was currently occupying. "You know, this is just like when I brought my friend over that one time! Prussia was here but you weren't, and he opened the door and started yelling, and I was scared! But then he stopped and I was happy and we showed my friend the house~"

Germany frowned, confused. "Vhen vas this?"

"Oh, not long ago~ A year or two, maybe?"

The larger nation sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "...Alright. Let's go inside."

"But Germany, I'm stuuuuck~ Veeeee~"

"Vhat?! You're stuck?!"

The auburn-haired nation nodded his head wildly, lip quivering. Desperate to avoid another fit of sobbing, Ludwig grabbed his friend and slung him over his shoulder, a great muddy sucking noise mixing in with the other, more natural spring sounds he was accustomed to.

He carried the Italian inside and setting him down on the couch, mentally flinching as he realized he'd have to clean the inevitable mud stain he was sure to leave, and sat down in his favorite chair, clasping his hands. "Vhy are you here, Italy?"

"Well, I know you've been upset recently because of Prussia, and I thought you'd be lonely because it's usually only you and him and Austria, so I decided to make you some pasta~" Italy smiled cheerfully and held out a small plastic container. "It got a little cold but pasta is pasta and I thought Germany could use his microwave to warm it up again~"

"Oh... Ah..." Germany felt a red tinge come to his cheeks and mentally cursed himself. "Thank you." He accepted the outstretched offering, peeking inside and seeing a mess of noodles and vegetables.

"I made one for myself, too, so we could eat together~" Italy chirped. "I also made some for Prussia and Austria, but I guess they aren't here~"

"Actually, Austria is in the music room." Germany said. "Ve can varm it up and give it to him later. He is eating... less than usual."

Italy nodded happily. "Okay~"

A few especially angry notes of piano music bashed through the walls like some kind of an emphasis, driving the two to silence.

"...Well, I suppose it's time to eat." Germany said, turning away.

As they waited for the dishes to finish cooking in the microwave, Italy rambled on- something about Japan going to visit Romano at France's house. The story was strange and Germany was only half paying attention so he didn't understand a lot of what was going on, but he got the idea that Italy was confused, too.

Finally, the microwave let off a loud beeping noise, signalling the end of the twisted conversation. They removed the boxes of pasta and took their respective places at the German's long, accommodating, exceptionally clean table.

"Pasta~" Italy sighed in happiness. Germany sighed for a very different reason- that country was far too obsessed with the food for his own good.

He couldn't bring himself to say so out loud, though, and opted instead to just eat- his stomach was growling, and he hadn't been eating very well recently due to stress. It was nice to cut back for a while with a friend- his best friend, actually.

Of course, cutting back for _Deutschland_ meant paranoia and silence. But no matter how small, relaxation was relaxation, and he needed a lot of that.

"...Germany." Italy said after a while. His voice was oddly quiet, serious even, and he was looking down at his mostly-finished noodles with a faint frown. "I think you need to accept Canada. He makes Prussia very happy, you know?"

Germany sighed, putting down his fork and holding his head in his hands. "It's... not Canada." He mumbled, half-hoping the nation wouldn't hear him. "I am fine vith him. It is... mein bruder didn't tell me about it. Ve used ro share everything. I'm vorried he doesn't trust me anymore."

"But Germany~" Italy protested. "He told you first~ Maybe he just wasn't sure before?"

Ludwig closed his eyes and groaned. "I... suppose." He glanced at his friend with a small smile. "I... vill ask him tonight. Are you staying?"

"Yes, if that's all right with you~" Italy chirped, happiness returning to his voice. "Veee Germany I am so happy~"

"...Indeed." Germany took another bite of his pasta, the flavor suddenly gaining intensity as his mood lifted. Yes. He would talk to his brother and apologize for being rude, and he would be forgiven (With any luck), and everything would go back to normal (with the exception of Austria, who would be sulking). He silently and deeply thanked Italy for giving him advice on the topic (albeit advice he should have realized himself).

Shortly after that, the nation started babbling on pointlessly about England and the other former Allies. Germany caught every word.

* * *

"...Vell..." Prussia's face was rather red, and he was almost stammering out the words- completely out of character for the former nation. "It vas kind of a... strange thing. I vasn't sure vhat to think, so I didn't mention it, and vhen ve finally sorted it all out, I forgot to tell you until I invited him to dinner." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced at Canada, who was standing next to him.

"I thought he told you." Canada said, his voice whispery and quiet. "I think we agreed to only tell family, which means only you. America probably won't react well to this; he can be very protective, and I don't think France or England could keep a secret- so that means you were supposed to be it, although when Prussia mentioned Austria was living with you and Hungary was staying over, we thought it would be fine if they knew..."

"But in no vay vas it because I didn't trust you." Prussia concluded, folding his arms. "The only person to know before you vas Cuba, because I had to stop him from beating up Birdie."

Germany sighed (again; he was doing a lot of that lately, wasn't he?) and closed his eyes. "..._Ja_, I believe you. And... I am sorry for my initial reaction, but vas it really necessary to be so blunt?"

"Blunt?" Prussia looked confused and a little indignant. "I am too awesome to be blunt!"

Germany looked at him and gritted his teeth to stop himself from yelling. "You said, I quote- 'Oh, yeah, bro, we've been together for the past six awesome months!'" He imitated his brother's voice and accompanied it with a glare.

"...That's blunt, brother?" Prussia laughed.

"Um, but it is blunt." Canada said.

Prussia gave his significant other a traitorous look and turned back to his brother, his eyes growing serious. "Seriously, _mein Bruder_. I vould never have hidden it from you on purpose. I am sorry."

And as Germany looked at the albino man, he remembered suddenly that Prussia was. indeed, older than he was, and that he had, indeed, gone through a lot more- and a lot worse. The thought took him by surprise- Gilbert was usually so immature, he always felt like the parent, but there were times he would be reminded that once upon a time the former nation had been the one to raise him.

Ludwig could do absolutely nothing but hug the man.

Prussia stiffened (much as he'd never admit it, Germany knew his brother wasn't much one for physical contact after a few incidents involving Hungary far beyond his memory) briefly before wrapping his arms around his sibling. "I see you are finally embracing the awesome me?" He chuckled. "Vell, ve all knew it vas inevitable."

"Shut up, you _dummkopf_." Germany pulled out of the hug and reached to shake Matthew's hand. "I see you have been a... good influence on _mein Bruder_." He said uneasily. "It vould be an honor to have you over for dinner as much as you vish." He glanced at Italy, who had been remaining silent for the entire apology scene. "Ve already have guests most of the time. Another vouldn't do us harm."

Canada smiled shyly and nodded his thanks. Prussia gave him a massive grin, and he saw relief shining in his eyes- the situation had been putting a lot of stress on his brother, too.

It made him feel a lot better about the conversation.

"Vell, I guess dinner is over." Prussia sighed, putting his arms behind his head. "Vill you be visiting next veekend as vell, Birdie?"

Canada glanced at the ground, still smiling. "I-if you'll have me."

Germany nodded his approval, and watched the two hug. He had to force back a smile as the New World nation and his brother waved goodbye, preparing to leave for the airport so Matthew could go home.

The stress and the dread and the anger were gone.

"See? That was a good idea, wasn't it, Germany? Veee~"

Germany turned and smiled at Italy- kindly, loosely, a smile he reserved only for his closest friends and family. "Yes, that vas a good idea. _Danke_."

Italy (who had, indeed, picked up a little German during the war) smiled back. "You're welcome, Germany~"

Germany gave a nod, and they stood there in blissful silence for a few moments before Feliciano spoke again.

"Ve! I forgot~" Italy's face went down in panic. "We still need to give Austria his pasta~"

Germany sighed, heading for the kitchen. "Vell, if you insist, let's heat it up for him. But don't expect any thanks; he's being very... prissy right now."

Several notes from Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star hammered their way into the kitchen, and Germany realized that if his 'housemate' was playing something so basic it could only mean one of two things: he was too angry to think straight, or he'd run out of most of his material. He guessed it was probably both.

The pasta took a few minutes to heat in the microwave, during which Germany began meticulously cleaning his kitchen. Italy watched on, his expression one of exasperation at his friend's antics, but after so many years (almost a hundred since he'd first been captured by the nation) he knew better than to interrupt the man. The only four parts of Germany's house that weren't regularly cleaned were Prussia's bedroom, Prussia's bathroom, the music room, and the dungeons.

For obvious reasons.

When they reached the door to the music room, Italy pushed it wide (It was closed tightly but lacked a lock) and shouted a hello. "Veee~ Austria, we have brought you pastaaaa~"

The room was dark, and Germany could just barely see the man's figure hunched over the long, broad shape of a piano in the far corner of the room. As they watched, the piano music cut off suddenly, and the drop from Mary Had a Little Lamb to dead silence was astonishing.

Of course, Germany had been forced to live with the aristocrat for many years and knew exactly what to expect. Italy, however, was terrified out of his wits as the figure stiffly stood up, the wooden piano bench screeching against the floor.

Hunched over, the figure came into the light.

Austria's fingers were covered in fresh wounds from constantly playing instruments. His eyes were half-shut against the light, the white streaked through with bloodred veins. He looked more emaciated than usual, somehow grimy even though the room was generally clean; his fingernails were ragged and his shoes were worn. Except for the little bit that constantly twisted upwards, his hair was greasy and disgusting.

Italy screeched, running to hide behind Germany, who just rolled his eyes.

"This isn't good for you, Austria."

"B-" The aristocrat coughed roughly, his voice rusty with disuse. "Be quiet about that. Vhat do you vant from me now?"

"Italy made you pasta." Ludwig said flatly.

Austria's eyes took in the cowering figure behind his host, who squeaked, jumped out, and thrust the pasta at him. "Wahhh! Take it! Don't eat me! Veeeeeee~"

Fingers gripping the warm container, Austria's eyes bore into Germany. "I don't look that bad, do I?"

"You could make Russia cry." Germany shot him a look. "Take a shower, Roderich."

And with that, he let the door swing shut behind him as he took off in search of his friend.

* * *

"You... vant me to _announce_ it?" Germany gave the pair a baffled look, setting down his fork.

"It's a great idea, but you must admit it is a little strange and all~" Italy said, smiling at them.

Prussia frowned. "I guess, but I think the vorld needs to know about the awesome me and my Birdie! And since the G8 meeting is smaller and has America, it's the perfect place to start."

"Vell, yes, but if America is told by anyone but you he might be angry." Germany cast a glance at Canada, who nodded his agreement.

"I know. I'm a part of the G8, too. I'll be there to help him out of it."

"Ve?!"

"You are part of the G8?" Ludwig looked at the shy nation, baffled. "But... I have never seen you there before."

"Most people don't notice me." Canada flushed slightly and shrank down in his chair. "That's why we want you to make the announcement."

Germany and Italy looked at each other, unsure as to which course of action was best.

Then Feliciano smiled wide. "Sure we will announce it! Or Germany will, probably, because they listen to him better than me~"

And that was how that was decided.

* * *

The meeting.

"_Mein Gott_." Germany muttered under his breath, unlocking the door to his hotel room. "The meeting."

That had been worse than usual.

He'd announced Prussia and Canada's relationship first, hoping to get it over with quickly, but it had the exact opposite effect. America had stormed out in a huff, looking murderous. England had fallen asleep. Italy had thrown the cat he always somehow managed to bring to meetings onto France's lap, and had then been chased around the room by a very angry Bonnefoy. Japan had somehow gotten into an argument with Russia about China. And Canada... well, part of the way through the meeting, America had reappeared and dragged the nation out, narrowly dodging the pipe Russia was aiming at Japan's head.

He was ready, he was willing, he was_ absolutely desperate_ to just collapse on the bed without a second thought and sleep all the stress off. There was nothing he'd rather do. Even a shower seemed unappetizing.

Ludwig groaned and let himself fall face-first onto the sheets. Even though half of his body was hanging off of the mattress, even though he was still in full uniform, even though he was actually very hungry, he fell asleep without a second thought.

* * *

"...Germany?" The voice penetrated his sleep, a small and scared voice, a voice he knew. He pulled himself into a standing position, grimacing as his back popped.

"Vhat is it, Italy?" He groaned, looking at the digital clock typical of hotel rooms. "And vhy so late? It's three in the morning..."

"I had a nightmare." The smaller nation whimpered. Germany noticed how he was clutching a pillow, his face cherry-red in the faint light pouring through the open door to the hallway (he didn't expend much effort wondering how, exactly, he'd gotten in; it happened often enough at home).

Germany sighed, knowing full well where this was going. He nodded stiffly and moved to shut the door. "You can stay vith me tonight, if you vant."

Feliciano's face lightened slightly. "Veee! Thank you, Germany! _Grazie_!"

"Just give me a minute to put on night clothes." Germany grumped, glaring at his uniform, now rumpled beyond comprehension. He grabbed his suitcase and dragged the entire thing into the bathroom with him.

A few minutes later, he emerged to find the Italian already curled up in bed, and very much asleep. The pillow, assumingly from his own room, had come to rest on the floor nearby.

Awkwardly, Germany slipped into the bed next to his friend. Italy shifted slightly, humming contentedly in his sleep, and the larger man turned on his side so he could at least attempt to ignore him.

That attempt proved futile when Italy himself turned over, throwing an arm over Germany's shoulders and snuggling into his back.

Ludwig tensed. A part of him wanted to move away, but another part was telling him that it would be cruel to wake the Italian.

Laying as still as possible, he closed his eyes and desperately tried to ignore the nation; despite his best efforts, it still took an entire half-hour for him to drift off again.

* * *

_It was nighttime in the forest._

_It was nighttime in the forest, and the wolf was on the prowl._

_Like shadows, it moved- slick through the night, oil on a pond of blackness, owl through soft pine trees that swept upwards like a prayer. Though it was always silent, the padding of snow dulled its faint footfalls as it trotted._

_The full moon above howled to the wolf, and the wolf below howled to the moon. The eerie noise echoed through the night, sending shivers up the spines of all who listened; everything grew still in the forest, fled from its nose._

_But these rabbits and foxes were not to be its prey tonight._

_Far in the distance, fires twinkled. A town, not large in size, a single patch of light in this endless darkness where the wolf prowled._

_Its eye glinted threateningly._

_Everyone knew of the wolf. The wolf came more than once a week, taking its pickings of the townsfolk; it was a massive, vicious beast who left only smears of blood on the walls and the dirt roads for morning's light, and whose presence was only told through dark shapes glimpsed through windows and piercing screams that cut off before they could finish._

_Tonight was no different._

_The victim this time was the blacksmith's fair daughter, caught stupidly watering the garden one last time before turning in for the night. The wolf took her by surprise, sharp teeth on a slim, pale neck, and the shrill cries turned into a terrible gurgling that slowly faded as the wolf dragged her broken body back into the deep, dark forest of the night. She was one of many, one of too many._

_She was one too many._

_Three nights later, the wolf returned and found well-guarded houses and pikes awaiting it. It turned and ate the livestock they had foolishly left unprotected, leaving them meatless in the hard winter months ahead. Glistening white bones lay among the snow the next morning._

_A week later, the horns sounded. A hunting party had assembled, and the wolf did not show itself._

_Many months passed, and all of the party gave up as spring returned. The corpses of those starved used to bait the beast always vanished- it was there, it was alive, but they could never catch it. They decided that the villagers would have to fend for themselves._

_One boy from the village- orphaned by the wolf and the famine- stood up, though, and demanded they give him their weapons so he could hunt the beast. Laughing, one particularly cruel hunter threw the boy meager supplies before the company left._

_And then, all alone, the boy set off to kill the wolf. He bore with him a ragged knife and the line from an old bow, as well as some rotten apples and old leather armor._

_He went, and he fought, and he killed the wolf, and the villagers were happy. But as they praised his name to the skies, the boy let out a piercing scream- something was burning- his arm- pain- run- door slamming-_ Italy-

* * *

Germany let out a small scream of his own, flailing desperately out of the covers. Disoriented, he glanced wildly around the room, realizing he was on the floor.

As his heart rate slowed, he grimaced and grasped his arm. Five deep red marks slashed their way across his flesh, blood pooling around them.

_I didn't do that to myself, did I...?_

He thought back to his dream and sighed in defeat. _Maybe I did._

That dream...

Germany's eyes closed, and sobs began to tear through his form. _...I vas the volf. I vas a monster. I am a monster. I vas the volf, and Italy vas the boy. Italy is the good guy, he's the hero, and he has to destroy the monsters. That's vhy I can't tell him how I feel._

_Italy is a good guy, and I am a monster. I vill just end up hurting him._

He took several deep, gasping breaths, sucking all of his tears back inside. He wiped his eyes off and stood, looking down at his bed.

Italy was not there.

Germany's brow furrowed in worry. "But... he never leaves before sunrise." He muttered to himself, touching the splatters of blood on the sheets- undoubtedly from his own, still oozing wounds.

_Something is wrong._

He glanced towards the door, saw a thin trail of droplets leading towards it. His heart went cold.

_D-did I...?_ He gulped, looking at the marks on his arm. Had he hurt Italy?

Without a thought to clothes or shoes, Germany dashed out the door. The drops led straight to the stairwell and down- down all ten flights, down to the streets and alleys of below.

It was harder to find the trail down here, but his persistence and training were never for naught; the man picked out the blood on the cement and traced it like a hawk, never faltering, never pausing.

Except when he reached the destination.

The bar was bright and colorful, a very American building for a British pub; the large, bored man at the front even spoke in that annoying accent as he asked for Germany's ID.

The man was also likely drunk, because Germany was fairly sure it was illegal to punch him in the mouth for trying to enter with no ID (it was still in the pocket of his uniform) and no shoes (he'd run out so fast, they had escaped his attention).

Granted- it was also illegal to punch him back, dash into the bar, and scream "FELICIANO! IT'S LUDWIG! WE NEED TO TALK!" At the top of his lungs while being dragged out by several guards, but he was desperate. It was a miracle they hadn't called the actual cops on him.

Only seconds later, a familiar figure slumped out of the bar. Italy walked up to him with his head bent, looking at the ground.

"Feliciano..." Germany muttered, grasping the man's shoulders. "Tell me, did I hurt you?"

"What?" Italy looked up into his friend's face, confused, and then the expression quickly switched to guilt as he responded sorrowfully. "No, Germany, you didn't hurt me. I hurt you."

"...Vhat?" As Ludwig watched, the Italian reached a hand out and brushed it against the claw marks on his arm.

"I did that." He muttered. "I hurt myself, too."

Germany's eyes widened as he realized exactly how red one of Italy's long sleeves was. The smaller man rolled it back, revealing an even deeper set of five marks on his own arm. Unlike his own, which had begun to crust over on his way down the stairs, these were still very red and very much bleeding.

"Vhy?" Germany muttered, looking at Italy earnestly.

"I-I had another nightmare, where I killed you." Italy stammered. "And you were begging me not to but I did anyways and... and..." He shuddered.

Without another word, Germany pulled his friend into a hug. The nation didn't return it, hanging there limply, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Don't hug me. I'm a monster, Germany, I shouldn't be hugged." The Italian pushed out of his grip, tears now freely falling.

Germany shook his head. "_Nein_. If anyone is a monster, I am." Now tears were coming to his eyes, too, and he clenched his teeth. "You could never be a monster."

"B-but... Germany... you're not a monster. You're a good person."

"_Nein_, I'm not. Millions of people died in my country, Italy, millions that I helped kill. I did nothing to stop it." His voice was broken now, empty, just like those millions. Dead.

"But you have a good heart! A monster wouldn't think that was bad." Italy protested, looking up into his face earnestly now.

"Vell then, you can't be a monster, either." Germany muttered, looking at Italy sadly.

"I killed you in my dream, Germany!" Now it was the smaller nation's turn to hug his friend, wrapping his arms desperately around his body and sobbing hopelessly into his chest.

"But you didn't in reality." Ludwig whispered. "I've killed so many. I vish that could be a dream."

Germany was prepared for many things, especially concerning Italy, but in no way was he prepared for what was coming next.

"You're not a monster, Germany, I could never love a monster~" Italy sobbed, clinging to him as he spoke.

For a few moments, time stood still around them. Germany went from pity to shock to realization in an instant, a faint glint of hope growing in the far reaches of his mind.

"Italy, do you mean that?" He asked quietly.

"Ve~ Of course I do, Germany. I love you more than anyone in the world... like, romantically, too. I never said anything because you never seemed to like me back in that way." Italy's voice faltered, and he glanced at Germany fearfully. "Y-you do, right?"

Germany opened his mouth, and closed it again. He spent several long moments sorting through the messy pile that was his current state of mind, looking for the appropriate response, all the while staring blankly at Italy's face.

"O-oh. I'm sorry." Italy pulled away with a blush. "I guess you don't... um... I-I'll go away now..." He turned to walk away, but Ludwig caught his arm.

"Vait."

Germany stared at Italy for a few more seconds before beginning to stammer out a response. "I-I... I... I..." He gulped. "_Ich liebe dich_."

"...What?" Italy asked, his voice a mixture of sorrow and confusion.

"I love you, too." Germany muttered, pulling the Italian into yet another hug. "I love you, too." He repeated, louder.

And then they were crying together, two monsters in the night- not because they hated themselves, but because they loved each other, and they had only just realized it.

* * *

**Yayyyy moar author's notttteeee**

**…So, yeah. Lookit that. 5.1k now, although a lot of that is Germany worrying over Prussia and Canada. I think the flow of this chapter was probably off, because it started off kinda depressing and then it just got kinda angsty IMO, but please review and share your own opinions.**

**Ich Liebe Dich- I love you (German)**

**Grazie- Thank you (Italian)**

**Deutschland- Germany (German)**

**If I missed any other words, please tell me~**

**Austria. He cracks me up. I'm sorry. And yes, he'll probably have his own one-shot thing in this, near the end if there ever is one- could be next chapter, could be twenty chapters from now, who the heck knows? I do warn you, that pairing's probably gonna be completely crack, though.**

**I still own nuthin'. I'm sorry if you were hoping or something~**

**Oh! I almost forgot~ Austria's home situation thing in this story is a little odd. He still lives with Germany because his government just doesn't want to deal with him. In the first chapter, when Prussia's stalking him, he's staying with Hungary for a while (probably to get away from his housemates). Prussia thought it would be easier to attack him without his brother watching- clearly not. America and Canada were there for political reasons.**

**This part takes place before the meeting last chapter and the night after.**

**If anything else needs to be clarified, please tell me~**

**AF-DS, over and out~**


	4. Food for Thought

The drink in Prussia's hand was anything but alcoholic.

Not that he really _needed_ alcohol, no, but it was just so unusual the strangeness of the situation warranted a mental note. That, and he was nervous.

Yes, the awesome Prussia was nervous. In fact, he was so nervous he was sweating, salty liquid pouring like buckets out of his skin. It was kind of a disgusting feeling, but he didn't complain- nobody to really complain to, at the moment.

He swirled the liquid around in the cup with a finger, trying to absorb himself in thoughts of it. It was some sort of soda- he didn't know which specific kind of soda it was because he didn't really like soda enough to pay attention when he ordered it- but it was some kind of a darkish brown color and didn't taste much like his beloved beer at all. There were bubbles in the drink that would slowly rise to the top, little tiny orbs of air that reflected light and drew his red-eyed gaze.

But no matter how strangely interesting the soft drink was, thoughts always lingered.

He was _late_.

Normally, Prussia was the late one. He'd swagger in five to ten minutes after their set meeting time, true awesome style, bring an adorable frown-smile to his date's face. It wasn't unusual; he'd pulled the same thing tonight, in fact. He hadn't seen him, had assumed he'd be there in a few minutes, and ordered himself some grub.

And once he'd finished that, he'd ordered more food. And more. And more. And now, after an hour of sitting alone, there was yet another plate in front of him- untouched, had been for the past fifteen minutes. He couldn't bring himself to eat any more, and not just because he was full; he was sickened by thoughts of what might be happening to his Birdie.

Just as he was about to give up and go home, the door to the cafe opened, a dinging noise signalling the arrival of a customer. He kept his gaze on the soda, sure it had to be someone else- he couldn't be _that_ lucky, could he?

Someone slid into the booth across from him, and he looked up to find familiar violet eyes.

_Well, I guess I'm just that awesome._

Prussia grinned. "You're late, Birdie."

Canada smiled back. "I'm sorry. The World Meeting lasted longer than I thought it would, and then Am- Alfred-" His voice hitched as he remembered to use his brother's human name- "-yelled at me again."

"Honestly, I don't see vhy it's such an issue for him." Gilbert said. "It's not like I'm not awesome enough for you... Right?"

Canada laughed lightly at his troubled expression. "No, he's just being overprotective. Don't worry. I think he thinks you'll be a bad influence."

"Me? A bad influence?" Prussia snorted derisively. "I'm too awesome to be a bad influence."

Canada rolled his eyes and ordered some food from the waitress who had approached. He turned back to the red-eyed man. "He'll get over it eventually. If nothing else, I'm sure Arthur- or maybe Alistor- will yell at him to get over it."

"Alistor?

"Scotland."

"Oh... I knew that." Prussia poked his food with his fork, finally taking a small bite- it was cold and kind of disgusting, but edible. "So, vhere is your pet bear creature?"

"I left him at the hotel room. Most public places don't like it when you carry around endangered carnivores, you know." Canada reminded him as the waitress brought back a plate of...

"You're having vurst?" Prussia asked in surprise.

"Well, yeah, I guess." Matthew shrugged. "It tastes fine at your house, and I don't eat pancakes for every meal, you know."

"Awesome." Prussia took another bite of his cold meal, gulping it down rather quickly to avoid the taste.

The bell dinged behind them, and Canada's eyes widened in surprise.

"Vhat?" Prussia turned around, wondering if it was America coming to pester them again.

"Oh, what a surprise to see you here, onhonhonhon~" France waved at them cheerfully. Beside him, England turned bright red and desperately tried to cower behind the taller man.

Prussia's brow furrowed. It was a little strange the two were eating out together without anyone else- strange, but believable. He wouldn't have thought much of it if Arthur hadn't seemed embarrassed; the man was a total giveaway, which meant something was going on... and France's actually-not-faking-it smile...

_Ohhh._

"How are you today, Franc-is?" Canada asked. His voice hitched slightly part way through the name; he'd almost forgotten to address him as human, Prussia supposed, just like America earlier. Having to address someone by two different names could be difficult.

"We're bloody well fine, thank you." England blurted, folding his arms in a desperate bid to recover his lost dignity. "Now if you'll please just-"

"Arthur, have you always been so not awesome at the lying? Because that vas awful." Prussia interrupted, smirking.

The island nation just flushed even redder, and his companion laughed.

"Come, Angleterre, let us sit with our friends~" France pulled England over to the table and force him to sit down next to Canada, who smiled almost shyly.

"I'm going to kill you for this, you bloody frog."

"I know, _mon amour~_"

"Kesesese~ Judging by Francis's awesome face, you've only just gotten together and you're already fighting like an old married couple~" Prussia cackled, taking another bite of the freezing cold food on his plate.

"Oh, c'mon, Gilbert. Be nice." Canada said. "You're making Arthur uncomfortable."

Prussia frowned. "Yes, but Birdie- he vas already uncomfortable."

"Excuse me- may I take your orders?" A waitress asked, staring boredly at France and England.

All four of the group jumped; they had been so absorbed in the conversation none had heard the woman come up, and judging by her expression she'd been standing there for a while.

France recovered quickly, firing off an order at the lady. England, however, hardly managed to stutter out his choice as he turned redder than ever.

As the waitress left, Prussia smirked again. "Vow, Arthur, this awesome day is just tomato-ey for you, isn't it?"

France looked despairingly at his friend.

But to everyone but Canada's surprise- and Canada alone because he knew England's softer side from his childhood- the island nation took a deep breath and calmed himself in a miraculous feat of self-control. "...Yes, I suppose it is rather embarrassing to be seen with the frog like this. But... I guess I'll have to get used to it sooner or later- there's no going back now, I can see Alfred filming it from the corner booth." He stood up and shook his fist in the air. "THAT'S RIGHT, YOU BLOKE! I CAN SEE YOU!"

A barely-audible "Craaaap" floated across the room as Prussia, Canada, and France turned to look. This was followed by someone else talking and a whine of protest from the American.

"...Vell, looks like he has got an un-awesome partner in crime." Prussia said.

"Do we want to go over and see who it is?" France asked.

"I think we should leave them alone." Canada said, taking a bite of wurst. "Alfred's mostly harmless if you don't hurt his friends."

"But vhat about the other guy?"

"Unless it's Vash or Ivan, we don't have much to worry about." Canada replied. "And Vash wouldn't team up with anyone but Lili, and Alfred can't stand Ivan... so I think we're safe."

"...I'm sorry, old chap, I'm afraid I've completely forgotten who Vash is." England said, lost.

"Switzerland." Prussia replied. "And for your un-awesome information, Lili is Liechtenstein."

"Well, yes. I knew _that_- it's practically a cognate."

"The voice is far too high pitched to be either of those losers, anyways." France said, waving a hand in dismissal. "Let us just sit back and enjoy the food, _oui_?"

"Our food isn't here yet, frog." England grumbled.

The table fell into silence for a few minutes. Prussia ate his nasty cold food, regretting every bite but not sure what else to do. Canada took rather dainty bites of wurst, savoring every mouthful. The waitress brought along England and France's orders, and the two began to eat, as well.

To put it frankly, Prussia couldn't tell if the atmosphere was amiable or stressful.

For once, Canada was the one to break the silence, his quiet voice interrupting everyone's thought processes as he spoke.

"Arthur, Francis, I was wondering..."

"Hmm?"

"What is it, _mon ami?_"

"Well, you've always been like parents to me, so I wanted to know who's Mom and who's Dad."

Mid-chew, Prussia burst out into raucous laughter, nearly choking on his food.

Canada, all innocence and light, looked at France and England's reddening faces in confusion. "What?"

At the corner table, America laughed, drawing the attention of the other nearby customers.

"Please don't laugh so horribly. It's annoying." The man sitting next to him said. "You already blew our cover, so is it really necessary to blow my eardrums?"

"Exactly!" America chortled. "That was great!"

"I think that question is terribly rude."

"Man, you're so stiff-necked, yo! You know, they're practically my parents, too!"

"That is exactly my point. You should respect your elders."

"I'm the hero- I always respect my elders! Besides, in people years we're nearly the same age."

"Yes, but most of us are thousands of years older than you, youngling- at least in maturity."

America grinned goofily. "Dude, I can be totally mature when I want to- but that's so booooringggg!"

The other nation groaned. "I forget my reasons for agreeing to this partnership."

"It's because I'm the hero!"

"So, let me understand this thing: first Canada and Prussia, and now many nations are having the hook-up, da?" Russia asked, gazing around the table.

England, sitting rather awkwardly next to France, nodded. "Yes, I suppose so. I don't see anything wrong with it, myself- I guess Canada and Prussia just gave the rest of us the courage to act on our emotions." He frowned. "I don't know how it could be any sort of magic, at least. What do you think, Japan? You're the most magical nation here, other than myself."

"Huh? Oh, y-yes!" Japan stammered, pulling several sheets of paper off of the table and hiding them on his lap. "I do not think it courd be magic. It's probabry simpry coincidence."

"Exactly." England said, folding his arms and leaning back. "Not magic."

"Yeah, yeah. I don't care about the rest of you." America said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Dudes, I'm, like, only worried about my bro and his bro." He pointed accusingly at Germany, who frowned very slightly. "I think Prussia's a troublemaker and shouldn't be goin' out with Canada!"

"Actually-" Canada tried to add in.

"Nonsense!" England exclaimed, standing up. "They're bloody well fine together, you git! Stop interfering in Canada's business!"

"_Oui_~" France said. "Canada is a very intelligent boy, and if the German is too bad for him he will know."

"_Mein bruder_ may be _ein_ troublemaker, but he is not a bad person." Germany said firmly. "He vill not hurt Canada."

"I think America is overreacting, da?" Russia said, smiling kindly at the nation in question.

"On this point I do not agree with you, America." Japan said calmly, closing his eyes.

"Veee~ Why is America so mean to them?" Italy whimpered, picking at Germany's sleeve.

And for the second G8 meeting in a row, America ended up stomping out in a righteous (in his eyes) fury before anyone had a chance to bring up the first real point.

"...Vell," Germany said, glancing around at his fellow nations, "I think I have had enough for one day." He stood, turned around, and headed for the door. "Until the next meeting- may ve all hope it vill be more successful."

"_Oui_." France said, nodding politely.

"Indeed." England muttered.

"I thought it was very successful." Russia smiled.

"Veee~ Germany, wait for meeee~"

"That is a good idea. I must return home quickry."

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked.

"I'm Canada." Canada answered absently, watching as all the other nations filed out the door. "And I guess they've finally noticed me... sort of..."

"Hey, _Angleterre_~" France called. "Would you like to meet me for lunch, _mon amour_? Since we are, of course, in France, I can show you to the best eateries of the country~"

England hesitated- he'd originally planned to return to his room and sleep (therefore taking advantage of the meeting's early release), but the offer of a meal with France, he decided, was worth missing a nap.

"All right." He nodded, and the other nation grinned.

"_Merci!_" France exclaimed, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street. "I know just the place. It is very fancy and expensive, and it has a great view from the window, onhonhonhon~"

"Okay then." England said, slightly bewildered but rather too tired to protest to any degree. He stumbled along behind the nation, trying not to trip over the cracks or run into any of the French citizens they encountered (and there were a lot of the frogs, they were on a major street during lunch break for goodness' sake).

France led him to a huge building with the restaurant's emblem emblazoned on a huge neon sign outside. It did look entirely more fancy than the other nearby eateries, and all of the numerous citizens walking in had a stately grace and clothes that probably cost more than a small house- made him feel poor, in his cheap suit he'd thrown on after failing to properly prepare for the meeting.

The place seemed entirely hostile to him, but France dragged them in anyways, insisting on eating there even when the waiter had to hide a chuckle at England's eyebrows (yes, it was obvious he was laughing at them- he was all but pointing at his own head and yelling 'CATERPILLARS!' as he took their orders). Luckily, France had some sense of delicacy and had claimed an out-of-the-way window seat overlooking Paris in all its Frenchy splendour (he'd always prefer the Thames, personally, but the view _was_ nice).

It was only after they'd started on their meal that France began to talk.

"Erm, _Angleterre_." France said, gazing out the window as he fiddled with his soup spoon.

"Hmm? What is it, frog?" England asked, using what was slowly becoming an affectionate nickname instead of Francis.

"Well, I've been feeling ill recently, and I wondered if you could help."

"You bloke, how can I help you any better than an actual doctor?" England asked crabbily.

France continued on as though England hadn't spoken. "You... see weird things, right? Magical creatures, correct?"

"Of course I do, and I still can't bloody well understand why the rest of you don't!" He paused, and his brow furrowed. "But what does that have to do with you being sick?"

"_Angleterre_, the gargoyle is waving at me." France muttered, still staring out the window.

England blinked. "...What?" He followed his gaze to a building on the opposite side of the street and far below, which had corners decorated with gruesome stone statues- one of which was waving.

At France.

And France was looking at it- _directly at it_- with a small smile, as though this was an everyday experience for him.

Which it wasn't.

For England, maybe, but not for France.

"...You bloke, you're kidding me!" England protested. "You can't see any of the other creatures- it must be mechanical!" His brain landed desperately on the excuse, not quite willing to believe it could be true.

France turned back to him again with a frown. "But, _mon amour_, I can see you have your green creature on your shoulder~"

England paled, glancing at Flying Mint Bunny- who had once again accompanied him to the meeting and had shamelessly ridden on his shoulder as they went to the restaurant. She shrugged, her fur slightly raised in alarm- clearly she didn't have a clue what was happening, either.

"I know, I know, but it's true." France grumbled. "I have been seeing these things for many weeks now, but I thought I was going crazy until you brought it with you that day you pretended to be asleep. That gargoyle, his name is Paul, _oui_? I have coffee with him every Monday." He turned and waved back at the stone creature far below.

"You're absurd, you bloody frog." England said grumpily, but his facade didn't last long.

Ten tables over, the nearest couple jumped as a man yelled in an English accent, "HAHAHA! BEAT THAT, ALFRED! I'M NOT GOING BLOODY INSANE!"

In the silence that followed, someone laughed.

"Onhonhonhonhon~"

**...Okay, first of all, I realize this took a little longer to come out than the first three, but I kinda have an excuse: we're on summer break, and I was typing with a school computer XD**

**Now I've been using Google Docs so I've still got all the work saved, but I turned in my school laptop. At home we have other devices, but writing on an iPad is a pain and the desktops are usually being used by the other members of my family. We had a laptop that I could have used, if it hadn't finally broken the week before school ended x.x So I haven't been able to write as often, and... yeah.**

**So, yeah~ Reviewers! I love you all- as friends XD And also :3 ← YES! You're all nicer than I thought you'd be, was expecting major flame by now. I'm glad I don't totally fail to you all~**

**I'm going to do my best to give reasons for the weird things that happen in later chapters, if I can. Probably. Hopefully... Dunno XD I can be bad about that kind of thing.**

**So, this chapter is... different. It's sort of trying to elaborate on chapters one and two more than anything. I personally think I kind of messed up with France in chapter two and this is an embarrassing attempt to fix that mess. I'm hoping I did his personality better here, but... Well, it's certainly the shortest so far, weighing in at just around 3K.**

**Merci- Thank you (French)**

**Ein- A (German)**

**Anything else out of sorts, just leave a review... or PM me... or... something. Yeah, that.**

**Aaaaand good day, ! AF-DS out... again~**


	5. Once Upon a Tape Recorder

_"So... you have the recording, correct?"_

_"Yes, I do. They were surprisingry cooperative about it."_

_"Vell, of course they vere- you vould be very polite about it, as always."_

_"Of course."_

_"Good. Now, are ve going to do this as ve agreed?"_

_"Yes. We wirr edit it to be suitabre for chirdren so we can spread... the... torerance?"_

_"Exactly. Now, ve vill first take the tape and edit out all of the swears..."_

_"Yes. I'rr pray it now so we can start immediatery."_

_"Please do. I am ready to edit."_

* * *

[At first, everything sounds fuzzy. There is a lot of static, masking all noise, but then there is a fumbling sound as someone fiddles with the device and suddenly voices can be heard.]

Voice 1: _Fratello_! It's been so long since I've seen you!

Voice 2: Shut up, Veneziano. It's only been a month.

Voice 1(Veneziano): But _fratello_, I missed you~ Hey, where were you, anyways?

Voice 2: I went to the tomato -'s for a while, okay? It's no big deal.

Veneziano: I never said it was, Romano, that's what you said! Do you always have to be so mean to brother Spain? He treats us so nicely!

Voice 2(Romano): I act only as nice as -es like him deserve!

[The conversation becomes inaudible for a moment as a louder female voice speaks]

Voice Three: This is Agent Mei, reporting in. I have the mic in place and the operation is going smoothly. Target is currently standing with his back to Italy, arms folded. He looks angry and a little red in the face.

[The male voices return, one now louder than ever.]

Romano: -don't need advice from you, Veneziano! You've been hanging around that potato - far too much!

Veneziano: But Germany is nice to me~ Veeee~

Romano: It may seem like that, but one day he'll traitor you and the -storm that's coming at you because of your ignorance will hit you head on. Mark my words! You should just kill that sick potato - before he gets you first!

[There is a pause, and then crying can clearly be heard through the mic. Loud crying.]

Veneziano: (sobbing) B-but I d-don't want to kill Germany! Waahh!

Romano: ..._Fratello_? You're overreacting again, -.

Veneziano: Y-you don't understaaaaannndddd!

[The sobbing continues, followed by the sound of a door opening and slamming shut]

Voice 3(Agent Mei): Italy has left the room... that was extreme, even for him. I think there's more going on there than we realize. Target is standing there with his fists clenched, looking upset with himself...

Romano: Graaarg!

Agent Mei: ...He's punching the wall. Hard. I think he's bleeding. Remind me to do a background check on any anger management issues this guy has... I hear the Italian mafia is pretty fierce sometimes.

Romano: Why... do you... have to be... so... STUPID!

Agent Mei: I can't tell if he's talking about himself or Italy or the potential match or Germany. I think... himself.

Romano: Always so angry... so stupid... why...? You just made your brother cry, -! You worthless piece of -! You almost made Spain cry yesterday, you saw the tears in his eyes, the way he smiled, it was all wrong, you heard him sobbing in his room but you did NOTHING! Why can't... why can't you just...

[There is a pause, a long silence in the room.]

Romano: (whispering, barely audible) Why can't you just admit you love him?

Agent Mei: ...-. Guys, this may end up being more than just a routine check-up after all... I think we've got a live one!

* * *

_"...Agent Erizabeta?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Are you sure we want to market this towards chirdren? It seems terribry dark for one of our works so far."_

_"I know. I think ve should edit through the rest of the story before deciding, and if it is too bad ve can think of something else to do vith it."_

_"Okay. But what can we do with an edited audio tape rike this?"_

_"At the very least ve can overwrite it and reuse the tape... though I hate to do so. Agent Mei did a great job vith the commentary..."_

_"I agree. Agent Mei is... Taiwan, correct?"_

"Igen."

_"Okay. Now we can continue to edit the tape."_

_"I'll unpause it..."_

[The audio comes back in fuzzy, like at the start. It's fairly quiet, the only sound being that of gentle breathing until a very soft voice fades in...]

Voice 4: Why do I even have to do this, da-ze? I'm not even into this, and I don't owe Tai- er, Agent Mei- any favors. If it wasn't for that stupid girl with the frying pan I could be asleep right now.

("_I am going to get him for that comment._")

("_Don't be so rude, Agent Erizabeta. You know how he is._")

("_Yes, but that doesn't mean I have to like it._")

Voice 4: Anyways, this is... um... Agent Yong Soo- that's my name, right?- on night watch. I feel like a total pervert, da-ze.

("_Is there even a point to this segment? It's night vatch. Almost nothing ever happens on night vatch._")

("_You know Agent Mei wourdn't have incruded this part unress she thought it was important._")

("_I know._")

Voice 4(Agent Yong Soo): Romano- sorry, _the target_- is asleep. It's not even exciting sleep. By the way, night watch was made in me, da-ze.

("_Ugh._")

Agent Yong Soo: Ha! Target is drooling. I am amused, da-ze! Wait... now he is turning over. Was I too loud? I'm whispering... wait, he's frowning in his sleep. I think he's having a nightmare.

[There are a few muffled groans accompanied by a faint whimper, and then a low voice.]

Romano: No... no... stop it. Y-you're... that's not right... ruined everything...

Agent Yong Soo: I wonder what he's dreaming about, da-ze. Can I use it for blackmail material?

("_How dare he! I vill punish him for that! Ve do not use these as blackmail. It's a rule!_")

("_But Agent Erizabeta, he's not even an officiar team member- Agent Mei blackmaired Agent Reon and him to help when she rearized this courd actuarry go somewhere._")

("_I know... at least she didn't use information ve gathered for that. And vhile they vork for us, they follow our rules... so I reserve full right to punish them for this._")

("_Agent Erizabeta, the punishment is being banned from the group for a month. It's not a punishment if they never wanted to be here in the first prace._")

("_Vhatever- I'll find a vay._")

("_I know._")

Romano: -. Why? No... no... why... I-I don't want to leave! Don't make me leave, please!

Agent Yong Soo: ...This is getting a little weird, da-ze. I'm not sure if I should be listening to this.

Romano: Why...? I've... no, I never... only one who cared... don't want to leave...

Agent Yong Soo: …-. I see why all of you people are so weird now- stalkers listening in on this -, da-ze. I bet it messes you up.

("_Wha... I am not messed up! And I am not a stalker!_")

("_Werr, actuarry, I think putting audio bugs in private homes is considered starking._")

("_Shut up before I hurt you._")

Romano: Everyone else... everyone but you. I thought I could trust you! T-tomato... -...

[The sound of gasping breaths begins to fill the room, cut through with occasional words.]

Romano: (sobbing) I-I... deserve it... Whatever you do, I de-serve it... Just don't make me leave...

[The sound quiets at last as the target apparently falls into a deeper sleep, but one last word can be heard before the target stops speaking entirely.]

Romano: Spain...

Agent Yong Soo: …-. What is this club even about?! I made no agreement to be dragged into anyone's love life, da-ze! Taiwan, I'll get you for this! This is some seriously messed up -. I'll never be able to see Romano the same way again, -s! Whatever the - this is, it was NOT made in me!

[More sobs fill the air, much louder than last time and at a different pitch. It does not sound like the target.]

* * *

_"...I don't think it's that messed up."_

_"You're the crub founder, Agent Erizabeta, it arr makes sense to you. South Korea is an outsider, so he does not understand."_

_"Yes, I could tell. That crying at the end vas him, I am sure of it. I vill have some vords vith Agent Mei on how to choose temporary agents. Hopefully Agent Leon did better."_

_"Unrikery. I know him personarry. He isn't very cooperative, especially not since Engrand took him over for a whire."_

_"England took him over? That explains a lot."_

_"It does."_

_"So... next segment?"_

_"Indeed."_

* * *

[As always, the tape starts out fuzzy and unclear as it is positioned correctly to best hear the voices. And there are quite a few voices this time, too, all unclear and indiscriminatory at first before some become clearer.]

Voice 5: Hmmph... This is Agent Leon. We are at a bar somewhere in Italy... Veneziano's holding some sort of party. He's going to Germany's house next because apparently Hungary called him and said Prussia was going to give away a big secret and he should be there.

("_..._")

("_Vhat? It's possible I vas spying on Prussia and Canada a vhile ago... and I might have told Italy they vere going to tell Germany in a desperate bid to hook them up... but that's beside the point. They are not our target, remember? It's Romano this time. So stop looking at me like that._")

("_That is just cruer. I never thought you were that manipurative, Agent Erizabeta._")

("_Shut up!_")

Voice 5(Agent Leon): If I were you, I'd ask about that. So... Veneziano invited his dear _fratello_ Romano, and of course this means I'm on duty again because we absolutely must track the target's love life until something important happens or he gives up and dies in a hole... I hate you, Taiwan.

("_That must have been some pretty serious brackmair. I've never heard him tark so much._")

("_Vell, it vas Agent Mei. You know how she can get._")

("_With arr due respect, Agent Erizabeta, you're worse._")

("_You're on thin ice, Agent Kiku. Thin ice..._")

("_What? Was it something I said?!_")

[A new voice is heard, addressing Agent Leon.]

Voice 6: Hey, Hong Kong! It's been a while, old chap!

Agent Leon: -, it's England. (voice raises, shouting over the white noise of the room.) Go to -! Why are you even at Italy's party?! (voice lowers again) If not for your stupid tactics, Agent Mei, I would leave five minutes ago. - your mission.

Voice 6(England): 'Ey! You don't have to be so - rude.

Agent Leon: Don't you have some innocents to terrorize or something?

England: That was uncalled for! Hey, get back here, you bloke!

Agent Leon: Goodbye.

[There is the sound of England yelling, his voice unclear, and of fabric sliding against fabric as Agent Leon walks away. Finally, the noise stops, and the sound of voices return- there are fewer now, but still far too many to make out.]

Agent Leon: Now that pest is gone. We're also closer to the target. He's talking to Veneziano- you should be able to hear it...

[There is the sound of someone fumbling with the device before some voices become clearer. They are still somewhat faint, but can still be heard with relative ease.]

Veneziano: ...going to Germany's house, and you can't stop me!

Romano: I can't believe you'd rather hang with the potato - than me, jerk!

Veneziano: It's not that- I love my _fratello_. But you've been acting all weird since you came home from Spain's place. Did something happen?

[The voices fall silent, and Agent Leon murmurs something almost inaudibly into the mic.]

Agent Leon: The target has turned very pale. He's either scared or angry. I don't know which. I think... he's shaking. Now Italy looks worried. The target's fists are clenched... it'll only be a moment...

Romano: (yelling, very loudly) I HATE ALL OF YOU! GO AWAY, -S!

[The room falls dead silent, except for the stomp of feet and the sound of someone breathing heavily. There is a loud slam as a door swings closed.]

Agent Leon: And... boom. He just ran out of the room.

England: Oi, Italy! Was he crying?!

Agent Leon: …Insensitive -.

("_...Did Hong Kong just sympathize with Romano?_")

("_I am not sure that is possible, Agent Kiku... but... I think he... did._")

("_That is a miracre!_")

Veneziano: (acting like he's in shock) ..._Fratello_...?

[A new voice surfaces, very loudly and coming from the right.]

Voice 7: Don't worry, folks! I'll get him...

Veneziano: Waah! Brother Spain! Romano got angry when I asked him about your visit and now he's-

Voice 7(Spain): Shhh. I know, Italy. I was here for the whole thing, eh? I'll calm him down.

Agent Leon: (in faint astonishment) -... he has been standing there the entire time. I didn't notice. (greater astonishment, voice going somewhat high pitched) He just winked at me!

("_...Vinked...?_")

("_Oh, no. He didn't notice Agent Reon recording, did he?_")

("_Vell, I can't tell. I vas already at Germany's house by then... and vherever the heck you vere, it vasn't there._")

("_True..._")

[A number of muttered curses are pouring out of the device, spewed by Agent Leon. The rest of the conversation is still audible beyond.]

Veneziano: Good luck, brother Spain...

Spain: _Gracias_, Italy!

[Agent Leon is heard breathing deeply a few times before speaking.]

Agent Leon: ...Both targets have left the room. I'll try to follow discreetly... lucky for you, I know how to sneak around without being notic-

Voice 8: Hong Kong?

Agent Leon: - you. - you all. (raises voice) What do you want, Iceland? And why are you at Italy's party?

Voice 8(Iceland): I don't know. He invited us... actually, only Finland, but he said Finland could bring friends and... ugh. That's not the point.

Agent Leon: So what is the point? (he sounds as agitated as he has ever gotten)

Iceland: It's Norway again, with his big brother act. I thought he might shut up if I was with someone else.

Agent Leon: Ugh, fine. You can follow me if you wish. Just... don't ask what I'm doing.

Iceland: Okay. What are you doing?

("_Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it... -it, if you say it I vill kill you..._")

Agent Leon: I'm being blackmailed by Taiwan to spy on Romano and Spain's practically nonexistent mutual lovelife.

("_He's dead._")

("_Carm yourserf, Agent Erizabeta. You are overreacting._")

Iceland: Sounds fun. Can I help?

Agent Leon: I guess.

[There is a fumbling sound as the voice recorder is apparently removed from a pocket.]

Agent Leon: We're recording their voices with this. Also, Hungary gave us horrible codenames... I'm Agent Leon.

Iceland: Isn't that just your human name?

Agent Leon: Yes.

Iceland: So that would make me Agent Emil, yes?

Agent Leon: Yes.

Iceland(Agent Emil): Okay. Let's get out of here before Norway finds me again...

Agent Leon: They went this way.

("_Agent Kiku, are you sensing something between them?_")

("_Undoubtedry. I can't say what, but there is something there. Shourd we set up a watch?_")

("_There vould be no harm in it. This could be an interesting one... but back to the tape._")

[For several minutes, there is only the occasional comment by one of the Agents and the sound of footsteps. They echo faintly; they are in a hallway, a long one. Eventually, one of them hisses 'Shh!', although it's hard to tell which, as the sound of crying is becoming audible and drowning out their voices.]

Agent Emil: That's him, right?

Agent Leon: Yes. Looks like Spain hasn't found him yet. He's sitting in a... sitting room area, I suppose. There are a few chairs and a large TV.

Agent Emil: I can see, Agent Leon.

Agent Leon: I know. It's for the recorder.

Agent Emil: Oh.

Agent Leon: He's curled up in the fetal position on a couch crying his eyes out.

Agent Emil: This feels like a cheesy romance novel already.

Agent Leon: You chose to tag along.

Agent Emil: I know.

[There is a pause for a few seconds as the target's cries continue to be heard.]

Agent Emil: I've never seen him like this... I don't know him very well, but he always seems angry. This is kind of surprising.

Agent Leon: I'm sure he has an entire sappy backstory for this entire thing, but that's not the point; we're supposed to be observing the possible evolution of his relationship with Sp...

Spain: Roma! What's wrong?! Why are you crying, _mi amigo_?!

Romano: G-go away, tomato -. I never want to see you again.

Spain: Roma... Is this about the visit?

Romano: S-shut up.

Spain: Roma, I can't shut up! You're sitting here crying, and-

Romano: Like I made you cry last week, -?

Agent Emil: ...What the -?

Agent Leon: Spain is sitting on the far end of the couch. He was looking worried... now he seems shocked and sad. He's not looking at the target anymore.

Spain: Roma...

Romano: What is it, jerk?

Spain: I can't even remember what you said. I forgive you.

Agent Emil: ...Romano- erm, the target- seems surprised now. He's still facing away, but his eyes are big and he's stopped gasping for breath so much. He's sitting very still.

Romano: How can you forgive me if you can't even remember what I said?

[The sound of light chuckling fills the air.]

Agent Emil: ...Spain is laughing.

Spain: Roma, I don't need to know. I know you aren't the best with words, and, besides, I can never stay angry at my best friend~

[Silence.]

Agent Leon: I don't think I've ever seen someone turn that red in the face before... I'm almost impressed. Almost.

Agent Emil: Impressed with who?

Agent Leon: Both, I guess. It takes skill to make someone that emotional, too.

Agent Emil: Fair enough.

Spain: Roma...?

Agent Leon: Target is standing now, still facing away. He looks kind of ashamed and furious and confused.

Romano: You'll never understand, -.

Agent Emil: He's walking away. Spain looks even more shocked than before and also very distraught.

Agent Leon: And confused.

Agent Emil: Yes, and confused.

Agent Leon: That was kind of depressing.

Agent Emil: Yes, and it was an invasion of their privacy.

Agent Leon: Will you come with me next mission?

Agent Emil: I don't see any reason not to.

Agent Leon: Good. Thank you for accompanying me.

Agent Emil: Of course.

* * *

_"I can't believe he let Iceland in on the club."_

_"Icerand's not a bad person. If Agent Reon actuarry joins officiarry, it wourd be beneficiar to have him with us, as werr."_

_"...I guess. But-"_

_"Do not question it. We have onry three members and two officiar recruits. More members means we can better monitor the others. That's part of why we are making this chird-friendry, correct?"_

_"Yes. That is very true. I just wish he vouldn't recruit vithout confirming vith us first. If he recruits a total idiot, it vill be very hard to get rid of them vhile remaining somewhat anonymous."_

_"I know, but I don't think Agent Reon wourd recruit a totar idiot other than to annoy us, and even then I don't think he wourd."_

_"Okay, okay. Enough vith the vorries, then. Vhat's the next part?"_

_"This."_

* * *

[This time, the tape seems to have been already set up, and running for a while. Everything is fairly quiet until a voice begins speaking.]

Agent Mei: This is Agent Mei, reporting in once again from the target's room. I have Agent Leon assigned to the party itself and Agent Yong Soo reluctantly monitoring the potential match's hotel room. I haven't heard from them in several hours, which I hope is a good sign and fear is a bad sign.

[Something vibrates, and someone lets out an 'Oh!' of surprise.]

Agent Mei: Yes? Hello... oh, Agent Leon. Yes, yes... okay, I'll be ready when he arrives. He might be drunk? Great. Okay. Goodbye, brother. That was Agent Leon. The target is on the move, possibly to my location, possibly to a bar. We could have anywhere from ten minutes to a few days... sometimes I hate stakeouts.

[There is a slamming noise, followed by angry footsteps. The sound quality worsens as Agent Mei seemingly shifts around to avoid being seen.]

Romano: -s! All of you! Why don't you understand?!

Agent Mei: He's slamming his head against the wall. I know I'm not supposed to, but I kind of want to step out and comfort him...

("_Idiot._")

("_You wourd be doing the same thing, Agent Erizabeta._")

("_...I know._")

Romano: _Idiotaidiotaidiotaidiota_! You should have known he didn't feel the same. You're a worthless - and every single -ing person on this planet knows it- except for yourself! Why didn't you follow the advice you gave Veneziano?! The -storm of ignorance hit you instead, and you even saw it coming!

[A huge scream rips through the mic. Almost inaudible beneath the wall of sound is Agent Mei's yelp of pain, presumably as her earlobes burst from the noise. In the silence that follows, only heavy breathing can be heard, followed by a thump.]

Romano: I'm not sure what to do anymore... I can't get rid of the feeling, even though I know nobody cares.

Agent Mei: Owww... he's lying on the bed. Now he's sitting up... he looks... hopeful? And kinda disgusted, like he's just swallowed some nasty medicine that might save his life.

Romano: Well... I guess there's only one person who can help me with this problem now.

Agent Mei: Yeah, he can help himself.

Romano: As much as I hate it, I guess I'll have to visit the wine -.

Agent Mei: ...You're kidding me.

* * *

_"...Agent Kiku?"_

_"Yes, Agent Erizabeta?"_

_"Isn't the vine - France?"_

_"Indeed. I was present for some of the part with France. It was... very strange."_

_"I don't think that's next, though."_

_"Onry one way to find out."_

* * *

[As before, this time the mic is already up and running when the recording begins. It's quiet for a little bit before someone speaks- a male voice, this time.]

Agent Yong Soo: I hate this job, da-ze. I've been sitting here for hours and nothing's happened, plus being in someone else's bedroom makes me feel like a creepy stalker. Spain- I'm sorry, I mean the _potential match_- isn't home yet, and Agent Leon called in an hour ago to tell me he was on his way. I'm telling you, if he isn't dead drunk by the time he gets here I'll be surprised.

[There is a small pause.]

Agent Yong Soo: Dead drunk was made in me.

("_Somewhere, at that very moment, I think China probabry fert the need to shout out about where dead drunk was actuarry made. Sometimes I swear it is rike they have psychic connection._")

("_Does that mean-_")

("_No! China does not rike South Korea except as a brother. You have a disturbed mind, Agent Erizabeta._")

("_Be quiet!_")

Agent Yong Soo: If he takes any longer, I'll be forced to extract information via torture, da-ze.

("_Don't say anything, Agent Erizabeta._")

("_But... ugh... fine. I von't say anything... out loud._")

[There is the sound of a slamming door, followed by a second thud.]

Agent Yong Soo: See? Dead drunk. I was right, da-ze.

Spain: Urrgh... Roma... why...?

Agent Yong Soo: He's crying, too. Is everybody crying these days, da-ze? I always thought western nations were weak, but this is terrible.

Spain: Was it something I said...? I tried to comfort you... I knew no-one else would, 'cept maybe Italy...

Agent Yong Soo: Well, his words aren't slurring that much, da-ze. China slurs when he's drunk... Drunk China was invented in me, da-ze. And so were slurs.

Spain: Lessee... what did I say to him...? I... forgave him. Unconditionally. That wouldn't make him angry, not like that. Then I said something rude about his people skills... but he would agree with me on that, he has before. Which means...

Agent Yong Soo: Wow. His eyes just went huge, da-ze! Maybe he's not as drunk as I thought... wait... Umm, he just ran into the door and knocked himself out. What am I supposed to do now, da-ze? He's blocking the only exit except for the window...

[Silence for a few moments, presumably as Agent Yong Soo tries to think of another solution.]

Agent Yong Soo: Well, -.

* * *

_"Oh, so that vas how Agent Yong Soo ended up in the hospital,_ igen_?"_

_"Yes. That particurar undertaking ended in disaster for him."_

_"It threw off our schedule... Agent Yong Soo vas supposed to have been the one attending France's house. Ve had to call you in as an emergency replacement."_

_"Yes, but it arr worked out eventuarry."_

_"I suppose."_

* * *

[This time, there is only a steady hum as the device powers up- it's somewhat more high-tech than the others, belonging to a more experienced member of the organization. The voices are rather clear and concise as people begin to speak.]

Voice 9: This is Agent Kiku, reporting for recording duty. We are currentry rocated about a mire outside of the house of France. I was visiting Itary when I got the emergency carr about this- Itary is going to Germany's house again, probabry to herp him dear with Prussia and Canada, which I am not supposed to know about. It is very tempting to see where that goes, but this is more important right now.

[For the next few minutes, all that can be heard is the rushing noise of a moving car. Finally, it slows, and there is a sound of tires over gravel, which in itself eventually stops altogether.]

Voice 9(Agent Kiku): We have arrived. France's house is very rarge and imposing, but arso very... I think the word is saucy in Engrish.

[There is the sound of a car door opening and shutting, and then shortly after a ringing doorbell.]

Voice 10: Ahh, Japan, _mon ami_~ I am glad you could stop by~ I do not know why you believe you can help _mon frère_ Romano, but... {his voice lowers slightly) ...at this point in time, any help is appreciated.

Agent Kiku: Thank you for arrowing me admittance to your home, France.

Voice 10(France): Any time, onhonhonhon~

Agent Kiku: (quietly, whispering) It is arways the hardest to do a recording when everyone knows you are there, but I think this was my best option. (louder) Can you prease show me where Romano is?

France: Right this way, _mon ami_~

[For the next minute or so, all that can be heard is faint humming, likely coming from France.]

[Agent Kiku: We are sitting in a fancy riving room with many portraits. France is carring a servant to bring Romano down... ah, I think he means to speak to me.]

France: I do not know what has gotten into his head, _mon ami_. Much as I despise admitting it, _mon frère_ is afraid to the death of me. For him to come to me so suddenly last night, and in such a sorry state... well, something must be very wrong indeed.

Agent Kiku: I see. That is very troubresome indeed.

France: And what is stranger... he did not first go to his true brother. They may not act like it, but Romano and Veneziano are very close.

Agent Kiku: I courd terr when I met him the first time as an Axis power. Twins have a very speciar connection.

France: _Oui_! But _mon frère_ did not tell Veneziano, did he? And when he arrived, he said 'I need your help in the morning, wine -' and went straight off to bed! He did not cower or shrink- not that I want him to, but he always does- he was just kind of slumped like he was in a deep depression and went to the room. Japan, if you can help him, I will be forever grateful to you~

Agent Kiku: I wirr do my best!

[Before another word is said, there is a dull thud. The room falls into silence as someone else slumps on a third chair.

[Agent Kiku: Romano- the target- rooks rike he needs sreep. His eyes are baggy and red. He rooks as though he spent the night crying.]

Romano: Why is that - Japan here, too?

Agent Kiku: Excuse me, Mr. Romano, that was very rude!

Romano: I don't -ing care if I'm being rude.

France: _Frère_, are you feeling all right? You seem to have a bit of the strange happenings lately, you know?

Romano: No, I'm not all right, -s. Can't you tell, or do you just not care?!

Agent Kiku: Why do you think we don't care, Mr. Romano?

Romano: (coldly) Nobody cares.

[Agent Kiku: He's shifting around rike he wants to get up but can't decide if he shourd. He rooks uncomfortabre, indecisive.]

France: But, _mon ami_, you wouldn't come to your _frère aîné_ if you were just feeling lonely and upset with the world, eh? What is really troubling you? Surely you can tell Mr. Japan and myself.

Romano: I'm... not sure.

Agent Kiku: We won't terr anyone if you don't want us to. Besides, it wourd probabry do you good to terr someone instead of keeping your feerings secret.

[In the quiet that follows, there is a single, deep, shuddering breath audible through the mic. It's accompanied by a long sigh, and, eventually, words.]

Romano: I want to know how to admit.

France: Admit what, _mon ami_?

Romano: …

[Agent Kiku: He is turning red now, rooking at the floor instead of our faces. He is crearry very uncomfortabre with the situation.]

France: ...Onhonhonhon~ _Frère_, have you come to me seeking advice on the matters of love?

Romano: Never, you stupid wine -!

[There is silence for a few moments.]

Romano: ...Okay, fine. Yes. That's why I came.

France: Onhonhonhon~ I knew it, _mon ami_~ You have a crush, _oui_?

Romano: (loudly) It's not that simple, wine -!

Agent Kiku: (quietly) Is it ever?

Romano: I do have a crush, but I don't think the person likes me like that.

France: Ah, so this love is unrequited, hmmm? That always makes a love story more interesting.

Romano: It's not supposed to be interesting! It's supposed to work out somehow!

France: _Oui, oui_. Anyways, have you tried-

Romano: No, and I won't. That idea is terrible, go throw it at that -hole potato - or something.

France: But how did you know? I did not even finish introducing the plan!

Romano: I hate you so much I figured out you always suggest fewer clothes first. What other ideas are there for me to disprove?

[There is a frustrated groan.]

Agent Kiku: Well, how about we start with the very beginning steps of a rerationship? That seems rogicar.

France: _Oui_! Japan, that is _une bonne idée_! And to start, we shall begin with...

* * *

_"Vhat? Begin vith vhat?"_

_"Well, this part took a rong time to comprete, so it is a very choppy piece of audio recording. We had to stitch in the parts that Agents Reon and Emir recorded. "_

_"Ahh, fair enough. But one day ve must fix that part."_

_"Agreed."_

_"Here is the next part."_

* * *

[One word from the previous recording pops up on the new one before it cuts off to the other tape.]

France: ...Roses!

[Aftewards, the tape regains the fuzzy qualities it originally had, the voices rather hard to hear over the white noise.]

Agent Leon: Agents Leon and Emil reporting in. We received a call that the target would probably try something today, so we rushed to get in place- just in time, too.

Agent Emil: The target is approaching the house, walking stiffly. He has something behind his back and looks serious.

[There is a faint ringing noise.]

Agent Leon: Target just rang the doorbell. He seems to be nervous. He is shifting from foot to foot and scowling.

Agent Emil: His hands are probably sweaty by now.

Agent Leon: How can you tell?

Agent Emil: He keeps shifting his grip on the thing he's holding.

Agent Leon: Ah. The door is opening. Potential match is standing there, looking confused.

Spain: Roma? What are you doing here so early in the morning?

Agent Emil: Sp- Potential match looks nervous, as well. He can apparently hide it very well, because target doesn't seem to have noticed.

Agent Leon: Or maybe target is just that oblivious.

Agent Emil: That makes more sense.

Romano: Ah! T-tomato -... I... uh... wasn't expecting to see you here.

Spain: Uh, Roma, this is my house.

Romano: Of course. I knew that. I lived in it, remember, -?

Spain: I know~ That's why I was confused, _amigo_.

Agent Leon: Target just went bright red. He's not looking potential match in the eyes anymore.

Agent Emil: Potential match seems confused and a little nervous.

Spain: Roma, you look like a tomato again~

Agent Emil: But not very nervous.

Romano: Nng... fine... -, just take these! I'm leaving!

Agent Leon: Target just revealed he'd been hiding a bouquet of roses behind his back. He just shoved them at potential match and ran off... -it, Agent Mei, I'll hurt you for dragging me into this.

Spain: Que...? Roma... Roma! Wait!

Agent Emil: Potential match is running after target, but target appears to be faster... and crying.

Spain: -... Romano...

Agent Leon: Potential match is walking slowly back to house, looking at the roses and frowning.

* * *

_"...Very interesting. I never thought France could help vith romance in vays that vouldn't get you arrested for harassment."_

_"He can be surprisingry chivarrous when he's not being a totar pervert."_

_"I hate to say it... but he might make a good addition to the group?"_

_"...Hmm. I suppose he courd be... I can present the idea to him so he doesn't know about us if you want."_

_"That might be a good idea. Thank you for the offer, Agent Kiku."_

_"Of course, Agent Erizabeta."_

* * *

[The voices in this section are clear, concise- this is obviously Agent Kiku's recorder again.]

Romano: Roses? What are you, an idiot? Roses would never work on-

[The voice stops abruptly, and there is silence for a few seconds.]

[Agent Kiku: Target has turned bright red. He put his hands over his mouth rike he said something he shourdn't have.]

France: Roma, are you afraid we won't approve of your crush? Because I, as the ultimate master of love, can assure you that whoever it may be I will not think any less of you~

Romano: No! I won't tell you, wine -!

France: Okay, I will not ask about it, eh?

[There is a pause.]

France: But if you want to tell us-

Romano: No! What are you saying?! I mean, it's not like it's Spain or anyone like that, -s!

[There is another, much longer pause.]

Romano: …-it.

Agent Kiku: ...That was rearry kind of sad.

France: It's _monsieur Espagne_, isn't it?

[Agent Kiku: Target is turning very red.]

Romano: No! (pauses) I mean... _sì_. But if you make fun of me, I will be forced to bring out my secret weapon, -s!

France: What, you mean your cheesy mustache?

Romano: N-no! S-shut up, wine -!

Agent Kiku: Mustache?

France: Onhonhonhon~ Trust me, _monsieur_, it is exactly what it sounds like.

Agent Kiku: Ah, I see. So, what is your next idea for Mr. Romano, France?

France: Onhonhonhon~ Indeed, mes _amis_. If the roses do not work, then you should try the...

* * *

_"...Vhich one of you decided that it vas best to cut of at that moment?"_

_"Agent Erizabeta, I do not know! It was probabry Agent Mei or Agents Reon and Emir- they put together the finar copy before sending it to us for editing."_

_"I vill have vords vith them about it!"_

_"Erizabeta, prease be nice to them! We arr know the pubric rikes criffhangers. Perhaps they wirr enjoy it more this way."_

_"Grr... all right. Ve vill see."_

_"_Arigato_."_

_"Vhatever. Let us vatch the next part."_

* * *

[Once again, there is a brief section of clarity before the second part of the tape begins.]

France: Chocolates!

[There is a brief cut-off before the lower quality section begins to play.]

Agent Leon: It's only been a day since the roses, but I'm back here anyways. Agent Emil had to go home today, so I'm alone- - the Nordic reunion. And Denmark, for making him attend.

("_There is a Nordic reunion?_")

("_It makes sense. At my home we have an Asian reunion once a year._")

("_...I should plan a Germanic reunion._")

("_Um, but don't you arr pretty much rive in each other's houses anyways?_")

("_Shut up! I'm listening to the tape._")

Agent Leon: So, apparently the target should be returning in a little bit with another present thing for the potential match. I can't see how this will end much differently...

[There is a vague panting noise.]

Agent Leon: The target just ran up to the house. He looks frustrated... probably embarrassed... he's got a box with him. He's glancing around like he doesn't want anyone to see him... _báichī_. Obviously I can see him, so he is not doing a good job with this.

[There is the sound of a doorbell, and then feet pounding on the ground.]

Agent Leon: ...As England would say, I think he just ding-dong-ditched the potential match. He left the box and ran.

[There is a pause, followed by the creaking of an opening door.]

Agent Leon: The potential match opened the door.

Spain: Hello? Hmm? There's nobody out here? Huh. (pause) Wait... what's this? A... box?

Agent Leon: The potential match just picked up the box. He looks confused.

Spain: Hey, look at that! It has my name on it, eh? And it feels warm~ I wonder what it is~

Agent Leon: He's opening the box... he looks kind of happy...now he's grinning like an idiot.

Spain: It's a box of churros! Mmm...

Agent Leon: He took one out and ate a bite. Now he's swallowed and looks confused.

Spain: But... who left this for me?

Agent Leon: He's glancing around. Now he's grinning again.

Spain: Thank you, mysterious churro maker! They are _delicioso_!

Agent Leon: He's waving around wildly. Now he's gone back inside.

[There is a sharp intake of breath, followed by a screech and a thud.]

Romano: -it!

Agent Leon: What the -?! He was in my hiding place! How did he get in my hiding place?! How the - did he not notice me?!

Romano: _Prego_, tomato -.

Agent Leon: ...That was weird. He fell out of the tree I was hiding in. Now he's running away again...

* * *

_"...Have ve checked the target's mental records?"_

_"I am not sure he has any. Most nations do not take that kind of test."_

_"I have."_

_"...Because you thought you were a boy as a chird?"_

_"...Maybe."_

_"Hhhh... okay. Ret us go watch the next section."_

* * *

[The tape is clear once more. All is silent a few minutes before target speaks.]

Romano: Chocolate? Really? That is too cheesy.

France: Hey! Have you ever considered it is cheesy because it works?

Romano: Besides, the tomato - prefers churros.

France: So give him churros. See how I care! I am only trying to help, after all~

Agent Kiku: That courd be a good idea. Giving him churros courd show him that you know what he rikes, and he might appreciate it more if it is personarized rike that.

Romano: O-okay, so so far all you have told me is to give him candy and flowers. What else do you think you have, wine -?

France: Onhonhonhon, _mon frère_, let me think... Ah! I have it! The ever-so-popular...

* * *

_"Put in the next one quickly. I vant to see vhat he comes up vith this time."_

_"It is actuarry a very strange idea... I think America uses it a rot when he rikes someone."_

_"Don't give it away, Agent Kiku! You're ruining the surprise!"_

_"But... I... oh, whatever. Ret me set it up so we can pray it."_

* * *

France: ...love letter, hmm?

[This time, the audio remains clear, though not as much as the other; however, as the recording progresses, the quality fluctuates worryingly.]

Agent Emil: Agent Emil, reporting in. Two days ago the target apparently made another attempt to get the possible match's attention. I was at a reunion, so I know nothing of this.

[There is a pause before the agent continues to speak.]

Agent Emil: Today my partner Agent Leon was going to visit someone in the hospital... South Korea, correct?

("_Vha- he didn't refer to him as Agent Yong Soo!_")

("_Carm yourserf, Agent Erizabeta. At that time he onry knew that Hong Kong and Taiwan were agents, remember?_")

("_You use too many excuses, Agent Kiku._")

("_What? No, I don't!_")

("_Yes, you do! Now be quiet so ve can go back to the tape._")

("_I don't... but fine._")

Agent Emil: So I had to come out on my own. And he has the recorder... so I bought a new one for this mission.

("_That explains the veird quality._")

Agent Emil: I can see the target approaching the house... he looks nervous. He's at the door. He's not even ringing the bell this time, he just put an envelope in the mailbox. Now... he's leaving. -it, this means I'll have to wait until Spain picks up his mail, doesn't it?

[There is a brief section filled with high-pitched muttering and very random sound quality before the next words are audible.]

Agent Emil: ...ntial match just opened the mailbox. Finally. It's been hours.

("_Vait, vhat? ...Did that just do a timeskip?_")

("_Yes, I berieve Agent Mei fast-forwarded this part since nothing rearry happens. It is a rogicar decision._")

("_Hhhh... vhatever. It vorks, I guess._")

("_It's better than sitting through severar hours of Agent Emir tarking._")

("_True._")

Agent Emil: He's going inside to read them.

[There is a vague crackling noise, something not heard in any of the recordings so far.]

Agent Emil: Mr. Puffin, come in.

[A new voice is heard. It is very staticky and somewhat unclear.]

Voice 11: Hey, Iceland. Whaddaya want now?

Agent Emil: Mr. Puffin, I told you! Call me Agent Emil for now!

Voice 11(Mr. Puffin): Fine, fine. So, whaddaya want, _Agent Emil_?

("_He brought his pet along?!_")

("_Yes, and it sounds rike they are tarking through a warkie-tarkie. I imagine Mr. Puffin is on the inside of the house, and that Agent Emir is using him to herp with surveirrance._")

("_Hmmph... I guess that vorks._")

Agent Emil: I need you to find out where Spain is. When you find him, tell us what he's doing and saying.

Mr. Puffin: Wow, that brings back a lotta memories...

Agent Emil: Of what?

Mr. Puffin: Of stalkin' people before we used ta send in the hitmen.

Agent Emil: (sighs) You really are creepy sometimes. Just find Spain.

Mr. Puffin: Ah, fine. You're no fun.

[There is a pause. The crackling noise fluctuates, like the opposite end of the walkie-talkie is being moved around a lot. ]

Mr. Puffin: Ahh... there he is. I see him. He's sittin' at the table, sortin' through his mail, mutterin' about how many a' those bills he's got. Why am I doin' this again?

Agent Emil: I promised you fish.

Mr. Puffin: Ah, yeah. 'Kay... now he's holdin' one up, squintin' at it like it's gonna explode or somethin'... I can read it from here. All it says is 'To Spain' in real plain chickenscratch writin'... He's openin' it. An' readin' it. His eyes just got real wide... Now he's runnin' off ta his room, I think. He left the letter out on the table.

Agent Emil: Can you go read us what it says?

Mr. Puffin: Fine... but you owe me more fish for that... all right, I'm at the table, better make this quick... '_Dear Spain, I've always liked you._' Awh, don't ya tell me this is a love letter...

Agent Emil: It probably is.

Mr. Puffin: Eughh, so sappy. '_Dear Spain, I've always liked you. You're brave and forgiving. You're courageous enough to help get rid of those -s France and England, and strong enough to keep going even when the entire world is against you. Sometimes it feels like you're the only - in the world who actually cares about me._'

Agent Emil: Is that all of it?

Mr. Puffin: No, there's some kinda crappy poem after it... do I hafta read this?

Agent Emil: Yes.

Mr. Puffin: Fine... '_Roses are red, violets are blue, even though you're a -, I think I love you._' What kind of a crappy romance novel is this?

Agent Emil: One that Hong Kong dragged me into.

Mr. Puffin: Ugh.

Agent Emil: Sometimes.

* * *

_"Hey! It is not a crappy romance novel!"_

_"Agent Erizabeta, you are yerring at the voice recording of a puffin. Prease carm yourserf."_

_"I know, but... ugh! Vhat an idiot!"_

_"Without him we wourd not have known the contents of the retter at arr."_

_"That doesn't mean I can't resent him!"_

_"I know."_

_"Hey... ve're getting closer to the end of the recordings, aren't ve?"_

_"Yes, Mr. France onry had four suggestions for the target. We shourd be getting crose."_

_"Okay. Let's finish these before I explode out of anger."_

_"I'rr put in the next one."_

* * *

[There is silence for several moments. The quality of the tape is much better than the last one, with no fluctuations and few blurry spots. There is no hum as it turns on; it has clearly been running for a while.]

Romano: Are you crazy, -? A love letter? Like one of those crappy anonymous notes you put in someone's locker in high school?

France: Hey! They are not crappy... well, unless it is America writing them.

Romano: That - writes love letters?

France: _Oui_, if they can be called that...

Agent Kiku: He writes them to citizens he sees on the streets, sends them, and immediatery forgets. He has sent them to some of most nation's citizens... I am surprised you haven't noticed one yet. Usuarry one or two end up being sent to a government officiar and are passed up to the actuar nation...

("_Oh! That explains the anonymous letters my boss keeps giving to me... I vondered vhat idiot vould vrite such cheesy -._")

("_Yes, things rike that are usuarry America._")

("_I vill keep that in mind._")

France: Perhaps the burger-eating chubby does not like Italians, eh?

Romano: Hmmph. It's good I don't have to deal with that American's - love letters.

France: It is- they are horrible. But I am sure that if you wrote one, it would be _très bon_~

Romano: Nnng... fine, maybe I'll try writing a stupid love letter, wine -.

("_...If those vere America's letters, I must say the target's vas just as cheesy as his._")

("_I agree, arthough once I saw one that was supposed to be a romantic haiku but ended up being comprete nonsense I courd not understand._")

("_Typical American._")

France: Ah, that is great!

[Agent Kiku: He just did his kissing hand thing, where he puts two fingers to his rips and brows the worrd a kiss... the target is turning red.]

Romano: D-don't do that, wine -!

France: Oh, am I making _mon frère_ embarrassed?~

Agent Kiku: France, you are supposed to be aiding Mr. Romano, not making him die of embarrassment!

France: (sighs) _Oui_, I know. So, _mon frère_, the last thing you must do to win the heart of your crush is...

* * *

_"...I never thought I vould be so glad to see this over."_

_"It is a very rong recording. But at reast it isn't as boring as the one you did when you thought Greece was seeing Egypt..."_

_"S-shut up! I heard he vas going for a visit, and vhen he vas talking about it he made no mention of politics..."_

_"Honestry, even if it had been romantic it wourd have been boring. Do you even know much about Greece and Egypt?"_

_"...Not much."_

_"I thought maybe... There are very few peopre who make Greece react, most notabry Turkey and myserf. And I am not sure anyone can get much reaction from Mr. Egypt."_

_"Hmm... remind me to set up observation on Turkey."_

_"Agent Erizabeta, we can't watch everyone!"_

* * *

France: A romantic dinner, onhonhonhon~

[The tape cuts off and back to the normal, less clear version. There is a lot of random background noise, as though it's in a public place, but not quite so much as to suggest a very crowded area. There is music in the background that is difficult to make out, but it seems to have a slow beat and is probably played on something like a piano or violin.]

Agent Leon: This is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done.

Agent Emil: Don't say anything about embarrassment. You don't know about embarrassment.

Agent Leon: We are currently sitting in the booth next to where the target has reserved a table in a fancy Italian restaurant. So there is no chance they'll recognize us, we're being forced to wear disguises. Agent Mei gave me a blonde wig and contacts...

Agent Emil: Mine's worse.

Agent Leon: She thought it would be better to dress him as a girl.

("_...Agent Mei is manipulative sometimes._")

("_I agree. She is most certainry trying to set them up._")

("_Is it vrong to feel proud?_")

Agent Emil: So I am being forced to act like Agent Leon's... date. While we are stalking people on a date.

("_You know vhat? I'm not even going to protest the stalker comment any more. I'm already going to have vords vith all of them._")

("_That is very adurt of you, Agent Erizabeta._")

Agent Leon: Whoever is Mei's... boss... that is listening in on this, we will get you. And you will pay.

("_I'm terrified._")

("_Seriousry?!_")

("Nincs, ön idióta!_ It vas sarcasm!_")

("_...Oh._ Sōrī.")

Agent Emil: They have just entered the restaurant. The target looks nervous. The potential match just looks oblivious. And I look like an idiot.

Agent Leon: You do look like an idiot.

Agent Emil: Thank you for the words of comfort.

Agent Leon: Any time.

Agent Emil: They have taken their seats...

Voice 12: May I take your orders, please?

Agent Leon: Wha- oh. I'll have, I don't know, some pasta or another.

Voice 12: Pasta's really good, I really like pasta, but can you be a little more specific?~

[There is a long pause in the clearer voices before one of the agents replies.]

Agent Emil: ...I recognize your voice.

Voice 12: W-what? N-no you don't~ veee~

Agent Leon: ...Italy Veneziano?

Voice 12(Veneziano): How do you know who I am? I don't recognize you from any of the meetings! Are you an official?! Veeee~

Agent Leon: No, it's us- Hong Kong and Iceland. We're undercover.

Veneziano: Why?

Agent Emil: Reasons.

Veneziano: Ohhh, okay~ I'm undercover because I wanted to see my _fratello_'s first date~

[There is another period of silence.]

Agent Leon: I'll have whatever you suggest.

Agent Emil: Same.

Veneziano: Okay~ I'll be back with your drinks in just a minute~

Agent Leon: He was wearing a waitress's outfit and a hair net.

Agent Emil: Probably why he didn't question my terrible get-up.

Agent Leon: Of course.

Agent Emil: As far as I can tell, the target and the potential match have just ordered their food... they haven't really been talking. Italy took their order, but neither noticed who it was... his disguise isn't even that good.

[There is a momentary pause.]

Agent Leon: The potential match looks happy and oblivious. The target still looks nervous. Very nervous.

Veneziano: _Ciao, i miei amici_! I brought you your drinks~

Agent Emil: ...That was fast.

Veneziano: What can I say? I can go really fast when I want to~

Agent Leon: Indeed... is this wine?

Veneziano: Yep! The best we have~

Agent Leon: ...Fine.

Veneziano: Well, I've got to go serve other people~ I'll bring your food in a while, okay? _Arrivederci_!

Agent Leon: ...What do we do now?

Agent Emil: Shh! They've started to talk.

Spain: So, Roma, thanks for taking me to dinner... but why such a fancy restaurant? Usually we only go to cafes and such.

Romano: Nng... I... t-the food is _molto buono_, tomato -. Much better than the - those places serve.

Spain: Really? I always thought those cafes were very good. You didn't seem to hate them, either, Roma.

Romano: Y-yes... but I wanted something more pricey tonight.

Spain: This isn't an effort to get money off me, is it? Because we're having enough problems with that as is, Roma-

Romano: No! I'm paying tonight, remember, -?

Spain: Oh! You did say that, didn't you? Well then, _gracias_!

[There is silence for several moments. The waitress- Veneziano- drops by to give them their drinks.]

Spain: Oh! Roma, this is very expensive wine. Are you sure-

Romano: J-just shut up and drink, -.

Spain: Well, if you say so... but, Roma, you only have the cheap wine!

Romano: S-so? Maybe I like this kind more.

[There is a pause.]

Spain: Then if you like it more, I'll have that kind too~

Romano: B-but-

Spain: Waiter! I'm sorry, there was a mistake. I'll take the same kind of wine he's having~

Agent Leon: He called Italy back over. He's still grinning stupidly.

Romano: Ugh... -.

Veneziano: Okay! I'll bring it out to you right away~

Agent Emil: Italy is taking the wine away... Romano looks red in the face.

Spain: Hahaha! Roma, you look like a tomato!

Romano: S-shut up. -!

Spain: Oh! By the way, Roma, I just wanted to thank you for the churros~

[There is another pause.]

Agent Leon: The target is turning even redder than before. He looks shocked.

Romano: Y-you knew...?

Spain: Of course!~ There's only one person who can make churros as good as mine, after all~

Romano: W-wha-

Spain: Oh, and the letter! I could never mistake your handwriting, Roma~

Agent Emil: The target seems to think his shoes have become very interesting. Or his lap, since they're sitting.

[There is a clattering noise. followed by a yelp.]

Romano: S-Spain, you -! What are you doing?!

Spain: I'm giving you a hug, Roma~

Romano: Over the table?!

Spain: Of course~

Romano: Y-you just knocked over the wine, -!

Spain: I know, but the bottle was closed. It won't spill~

Romano: C-can you stop hugging me?! There are a bunch of people staring at us!

Spain: Roma, you need to lighten up~

Agent Leon: ...Wow. Potential match- you know what, - that- Spain just tackle-hugged Romano. Over the table.

Agent Emil: I think I see Italy taking a picture... now Spain has let go, and he's smiling at Romano. Romano is blushing again, but he looks more content than I've ever seen him.

Agent Leon: Well, now that they're together and all... we're going now, whoever the -s who wanted this recorded are. _Zàijiàn_. Also, go die in pits.

Agent Emil: _Bless_. I'm never doing this again.

Romano: Hey, Spain... I think those -s sitting behind you were talking about us.

Spain: Si, I heard that, too. Are we going to get them?

Romano: We should make the -s pay.

Spain: ...Okay, maybe nothing that violent. But we can ask them about it~

Romano: Hey, you sneaky -s! What are you talking about?!

Agent Leon: -!

Agent Emil: Instead of swearing, maybe we should run...

Agent Leon: We should run. Run!

[There is a thudding noise, followed by heavy panting. Eventually there is a scream, followed by several loud swears and the sound of fighting, and then someone fumbling at the device- and everything shuts off.]

* * *

_"That explains how they ended up vith the recording."_

_"Yes. It was onry ruck they did not have any way to access the actuar data..."_

_"It also explains vhy Agent Mei vas panicking over the last part... she did not expect to be given the opportunity to edit it for us,_ igen_?"_

_"Indeed, so I made a speciar trip to ret her finish it before we took it to you."_

_"That is acceptable, Agent Kiku."_

_"_Arigato_. Wirr we be using this recording for a chirdren's version?"_

_"I don't know... it is a little strange. I think ve should vait and consult vith the others."_

_"Agent Erizabeta... there are onry four others, and arr four were on the mission."_

_"I know, but they still have an opinion."_

_"True... It's getting rather rate. If there is nothing erse you wish for me to do, I am going to go home."_

_"That's fine. I'm getting tired, too. I vill probably head upstairs in a little vhile."_

_"Rucky you... the base is in your basement, but I have to take an hours-rong fright to get home."_

_"Yes, but I know that if you didn't enjoy being in the club you vouldn't attend every meeting."_

_"I know..._ Oyasuminasai, _Hungary."_

"Jó éjszakát,_ Japan."_

**WHEE IT'S 9.5K WORDSSSS**

**...Which trumps the first one by, like, a thousand. I'm sorry for making you struggle through all of that, especially if you didn't have a clue what was goin' on... I didn't think something written in script format could get so loooong.**

**Word of note: This takes place mostly before the GerIta chapter, but Romano's whole romance attempts were actually afterwards or during it at some point- thus, Italy mentioned Japan's involvement to Germany but nothing about the actual date. This... probably could have gone a lot different, but I'm not entirely upset with the end product. Just the amount of translations I'm gonna have to put down here. Ugh.**

**Speaking of which...**

**Translations:**

**-Fratello- Brother (Italian)**

**-Igen- Yes (Hungarian)**

**-Gracias- Thank you (Spanish)**

**-Mi amigo- My friend (Spanish)**

**-Idiota- Idiot (Italian)**

**-Mon ami- My friend (French)**

**-Mon frère- My brother (French)**

**-Frère aîné- Older brother (French)**

**-Oui- Yes (French)**

**-Une bonne idée- A good idea (French)**

**-Que- What (Spanish)**

**-Monsieur- Mister (French)**

**-Espagne- Spain (French)**

**-Sì- Yes (Italian/Spanish)**

**-Arigato- Thank you (Japanese)**

**-Báichī- Idiot (Chinese)**

**-Delicioso- Delicious (Spanish)**

**-Prego- You're welcome (Italian)**

**-Très bon- Very good (French)**

**-Nincs, ön idióta- No, you idiot (Hungarian)**

**-Sōrī- Sorry (Japanese)**

**-Ciao, i miei amici- Hello, my friends (Italian)**

**-Arrivederci- Goodbye (Italian)**

**-Molto buono- Very good (Italian)**

**-Zàijiàn- Goodbye (Chinese)**

**-Bless- Goodbye (Icelandic)**

**-Oyasuminasai- Good night (Japanese)**

**-Jó éjszakát- Good night (Hungarian)**

**And in addition, if some of Japan's words make no sense, take out a few of the 'r's and replace them with 'l's. That's kind of his accent.**

**Man, this was fun to write at first, but after a while script format got confusing... and now I'm going to have to get used to writing normally again x.x But you know what? NO REGRETS.**

**While I think Kaoru is a more popular human name for Hong Kong, I used Leon because I'm pretty sure it's vaguely more canonical. I'm worried that I wrote his character wrong... since he's supposed to be a narrator of sorts he had to talk a lot more than he typically would, same with Iceland. And I don't think I got Mr. Puffin quite right. Blargh.**

**Well, I hope Romano was... somewhat accurate. He's got a difficult personality. And with any luck, France was more accurate, as well- I have a feeling I'm still failing at him, though. Also not sure Japan and Hungary were all that great... ugh.**

**ALL YOU REVIEWERS. YOU'RE WONDERFUL FOR MORALE. I love you alllll~ And if you see any spelling, grammatical, or translation errors, please tell me. I'm a bit of a Grammar Nazi, but I am by no means grammatically perfect .**

**Anyhow, it's kinda late as I'm finally finishing writing this- I'll have to post it tomorrow as is-and I should really finish this up before it turns into a monologue, so... This was AF-DS once again, good night and good luck~**


End file.
